GEORGE ELIOT 



BY 

MATHILDE BLIND 

NEW EDITION 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED A CRITICAL ESTIMATE 

OF GEORGE ELIOT'S WRITINGS 

AND SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTERS ON HER 

METHODS OF WORK AND HER FRIENDS 

AND HOME LIFE 

BY 
FRANK WALDO, Ph.D. 

AND 

G. A. TURKINGTON, M.A. 



SEttfj a Btfiltograpts 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1904 



Two Cnnift* Swtivqfi 

OCT 28 1904 

^ Sotwrtsrht Entn 

fUl •&./*!» 4 
CLASS <* XXo. No. 



COPY 8 






Copyright, 1883, 
By Roberts Brothers. 

Copyright, 1904, 
By Little, Brown, and Company. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS 
CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



ST 









GEORGE ELIOT AND HER WORK 



Mathilde Blind, the author of this volume on George 
Eliot, was born at Mannheim, March 21, 1841. Her 
own father's name was Cohen, but she took the name 
of her stepfather, Karl Blind. The latter took part 
in the Baden insurrection of 1848-49, and was ex- 
iled. The family finally settled in London, after a 
sojourn in France and Belgium, and the Blind home 
became a rendezvous for refugees from the Continent. 
Mathilde early showed a taste for poetry and pub- 
lished a number of poems, the most ambitious of 
which was the 'Ascent of Man,' an epic based on 
Darwin's great work. This was reissued after her 
death with an introduction by Alfred Russel Wallace. 
Miss Blind translated Strauss's 'The Old Faith and 
the New ' and ' The Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff,' 
and among her prose writings were ' Madame Roland ' 
and the present volume in the 'Famous Women 
Series.' Miss Blind displayed much ability in all of 
her writings, and some of her poetry ranks high. 
There is a memoir prefixed to her collected works, 
edited by Arthur Symons in 1900. Miss Blind was 
well equipped for writing a biography of George 
Eliot, not only by her mental endowments, but as well 
by her literary training and experiences in England 
and on the Continent. 



vi GEORGE ELIOT. 

The extensive literature which has appeared con- 
cerning the life and writings of George Eliot ranges 
from brief notices to formidable volumes covering the 
period of her whole life, and includes the criticism 
of the foremost litterateurs and even the testimony of 
George Eliot herself. Far the most important of all, 
so far as her personality is concerned, is her life as 
told in the volumes of extracts from her diary and let- 
ters which were edited by her husband, Mr. Cross, 
and published in 1885. 

The first to appear of the separate volumes treat- 
ing of George Eliot's life and writings was that by 
Mathilde Blind, written just after the great novelist's 
death and published in London and Boston in 1883, 
at a time when retrospective interest in George 
Eliot's life was naturally the keenest. A good deal 
of critical and some biographical material had been 
previously published in scattered places, but this was 
the first attempt to gather it together and summarize 
it ; much additional matter was also included, so that 
Miss Blind's book could not be looked upon as a 
mere compilation. 

The George Eliot literature has two distinct periods, 
the second of which begins with the publication of her 
life and letters; or perhaps it is not too much to 
make the statement that it began with the publication 
of Mathilde Blind's ' George Eliot,' for Miss Blind had 
access to much of the then unpublished material that 
appeared a little later in Cross's 'Life,' and even 
quoted some letters that did not appear in the ' Life.' 
So excellently was her work done and so diligently did 
she search out local unpublished material that a care- 



HER WORK. vii 

ful examination of the literature about George Eliot 
makes it evident that what Mathilde Blind has written 
needs little modification so far as it goes, and that a 
satisfactory completeness to her book from the pres- 
ent-day standpoint is attained by supplementing her 
text by some additional details, chiefly those of an 
autobiographical nature published in Cross's ' Life.' 
This has been done by the addition of an appendix. 
This last includes matters related in the journal of 
George Eliot, her correspondence with the Black- 
woods, and some other letters to which Miss Blind 
did not have access. We have, however, been obliged 
to keep in mind the matter of space in order to pre- 
vent this little book from becoming too bulky. 

At the time of its appearance, Miss Blind's book 
was widely and, in general, appreciatively reviewed. 
It was even predicted by one reviewer that it " will 
hold its place even after some ampler memoir has 
been written, by virtue of its compactness and the 
justness of its estimates." Not only has this predic- 
tion been verified, but the book is still, after the lapse 
of a score of years, for the general reader and student 
use the most satisfactory sketch of George Eliot's life 
and work. 

The main value of the more recent writings con- 
cerning George Eliot lies in the added light which 
has been thrown on her personality by some of her 
acquaintances and friends, as for instance by Mr. 
Oscar Browning, and in the study of her writings and 
the estimation of their value by such eminent critics 
as Henry James and Sir Leslie Stephen. In Mathilde 
Blind's ' George Eliot ' both Oscar Browning and 



viii GEORGE ELIOT. 

Leslie Stephen have found material which they have 
used in their recent works. 

Concerning biographies, George Eliot herself has 
said : " We have often wished that when some great 
or good personage dies, instead of the dreary three 
or four-volumed compilation of letters and diary and 
detail, little to the purpose, which two-thirds of the 
reading public have not the chance, nor on the other 
hand the inclination, to read, we could have a real 
' Life,' setting forth briefly and vividly the many in- 
ward and outward struggles, aims and achievements, so 
as to make clear the meaning which his experience 
has for his fellows." 

Perhaps more than in the case of any other woman 
writer do the works of George Eliot need to be inter- 
preted by her life ; and the present volume furnishes 
a good introduction to the novelist's writings. 

Mr. Henry James expresses a wide-spread opinion 
when he mentions the disappointment caused by the 
reading of Cross's ' Life ' of George Eliot, but he in- 
sists that he himself experienced no such feeling. 
This disappointment was no doubt caused by the 
failure of the ' Life ' to reveal matters concerning 
George Eliot's private life that it was considered had 
hitherto been withheld from the public and would 
now be divulged. So little concerning the actual life 
of the great authoress had drifted beyond the exclu- 
sive circle with which she came into personal contact 
that the public, even the public that read her books, 
knew little of the minutiae of her private life ; so 
that the two known facts of her dissent from the usu- 
ally held religious views and the irregularity of her 



HER WORK. i x 

union with Mr. Lewes were repeated over and over 
again with all possible variations and embellishments. 
The record of the quiet life of study and productive 
work to which George Eliot devoted all her strength, 
and which was revealed in her books to those who 
could go below the surface, was not what the expect- 
ant public looked for in the ' Life/ and consequently 
they were disappointed. To those who, like Mr. 
James, can appreciate the conditions of a life such as 
George Eliot lived, the work reveals all that is wanted. 
To the criticism that the record of George Eliot's 
inner life has been withheld by the judicious editing 
of the material available to Mr. Cross, we have Mr. 
James's statement that " there is little absent that it 
would have been in Mr. Cross's power to give us." 
These words, coming from one of the foremost and 
most careful of the literary critics of the day, who is 
undoubtedly in a position to be sure of what he wrote 
in this connection, must be given full weight by the 
doubting or cynical minds that still feel themselves de- 
frauded of some of the details of George Eliot's life 
which might have proved " interesting " reading. But 
even Mr. James admits that these volumes do not fully 
reveal the personality of George Eliot, but only so 
much of it as pertained to the ordinary affairs of life. 
We do not find in them that self-analysis, or even the 
material for that analysis by others, that would show 
the inner workings of her mind in the development 
of her novels, and the process by which she achieved 
such wonderful literary results. The inner personality, 
that those who conversed with her felt that she kept 
to herself, was no more revealed in her letters or 



x GEORGE ELIOT. 

diary jottings than in her talk, and therefore is still 
lacking in the public's knowledge concerning her, 
except in so far as it is revealed in her writings and 
by the testimony of close friends. George Eliot's 
mind was of that receptive cast that took in, but did 
not easily give out again in what Mr. James terms an 
" overflow in idle confidences." From this it must not 
be inferred that George Eliot was not an interesting 
conversationalist, for otherwise she could not have 
held the circle of which she was the centre for so 
many years, although the credit for this is usually 
given to Mr. Lewes, who must after all be considered 
as only a master of ceremonies. 

While people read her books, yet the religious feel- 
ing against George Eliot's personality increased dur- 
ing her life and even up to the publication of her 
journal and letters. It was after this that the per- 
sonal element began to decline and her works began 
to emerge from the peculiar atmosphere in which 
they had been enveloped. 

Though there is still existing a feeling of expectancy 
in regard to the ultimate appearance of a ' Life ' of 
George Eliot that shall give a complete account of 
the details of her life, yet we have her own statement 
as to the meagreness of detail recorded in her journal. 

"To-day [December 31, 1877] I say a final fare- 
well to this little book, which is the only record I have 
made of my personal life for sixteen years or more. 
I have often been helped, in looking back in it, to 
compare former with actual states of despondency 
from bad health or other apparent causes. ... I shall 
record no more in this book, because I am going to 



HER WORK. xi 

keep a more business-like diary. Here ends 1877." 
It would thus appear that the autobiographical detail 
which we so much desire does not exist. 

The name " George Eliot," which was first used in 
a letter to Mr. Blackwood dated February 4, 1857, 
was selected as a pseudonym for two reasons, one 
specific and the other general, — George, because it 
was Mr. Lewes's name, and Eliot merely on account 
of its dignity and well- sounding brevity. The early 
adoption of the name permitted Mr. Lewes to do 
much more with her early writings than he could 
have done for one bearing his name, and by its con- 
tinued use we are spared the confusion that would 
arise from the succession of names, Marian Evans, 
Mrs. Lewes, and Mrs. Cross. 

The literary life of George Eliot may be divided 
into the following periods : Translator, editor, essay- 
ist, novelist. During the period of novelistic work she 
also assumed the role of poet. 

George Eliot's writings, when taken in chronologi- 
cal order, may be considered as an index to her 
intellectual cultural progress. Her powers of assimi- 
lation were indeed taxed by her opportunities during 
the last twenty years of her life, when she could get at 
first hand and by word of mouth the ideas and opinions 
of the best philosophic and scientific minds of Eng- 
land. This personal contact was unquestionably a 
great stimulus to her own mind, and by this means 
she was enabled to absorb within a few years a knowl- 
edge that a whole lifetime of reading and ordinary 
study would not have given. Her previous regular 
and serious studies had prepared her mind for just 



xii GEORGE ELIOT. 

such a process of further education. Unfortunately 
this mental growth carried with it the sense of duty 
on her part to share it with her readers, to the detri- 
ment of her spontaneous art. In the relationship be- 
tween author and reader, there is no more unbending 
law than that in works of fiction, as well as in poetry, 
the reading public does not wish to be instructed, in 
the usual sense of the word, and yet this very desire 
to instruct grew stronger and stronger in George Eliot 
as she went on with her literary work and as she her- 
self grew in knowledge. 

George Eliot's early life was thoroughly provincial, 
and all of her early impressions pertain either to the 
country, hamlet, or village life of the Warwickshire 
region in which she lived. Later she was introduced 
to the English literary circle through that most unique 
of positions, editorship on a Review. Still later her 
own position in the literary world and that of Mr. 
Lewes enabled them to become a little centre, round 
which serious thinkers gathered for the interchange of 
views, chiefly of a philosophical nature. There is no 
doubt but that in her essays George Eliot has revealed 
her thoughts on non-personal topics more freely and 
spontaneously than in her novels, where every sentence 
was carefully weighed in a different manner from that 
of merely careful writing. 

Until she was nearly forty years of age George 
Eliot's intellectual growth had been accomplished by 
close study, the reading of solid literature, the making 
of translations, and the preparation of magazine and 
review literature. Her critical faculties had been 
carefully cultivated, and her editorial work on the 



HER WORK. Xiii 

Westminster Review shows them to have been of the 
highest order. She was the only one of the group of 
contemporary British fiction writers who possessed the 
training of a student of philosophy, when, at the age 
of thirty-eight, she made her debut in imaginative lit- 
erature by the serial publication of ' Scenes of Clerical 
Life' (1858). These were based on events that oc- 
curred in the neighborhood where George Eliot had 
herself passed her childhood. It is the pathos of 
commonplace lives depicted in these stories that is 
their distinctive characteristic. 

In the ' Scenes of Clerical Life,' George Eliot kept 
very closely to facts and actual people, and the inci- 
dents and portraits were so completely recognized by 
residents of the section in which She had lived that 
they felt certain that the author had been one of them- 
selves. However, George Eliot did not depend en- 
tirely upon her own observation, but used incidents 
that had come to her through tradition, and from her 
imagination added some things that never occurred to 
the individuals whose memories are perpetuated in 
these stories. 

The first twenty years of her life had been passed at 
Griff, " a charming, red brick, ivy-covered house on 
the Arbury estate at Chilvers-Coton, near Nuneaton." 
Although George Eliot's lot was originally cast among 
the lower middle class, yet during this period from 
infancy to maturity she had unusual advantages for 
the study of both the upper and lower strata of society 
under ideally typical conditions. She was herself a 
member of the class that could most readily affiliate 
with the lower orders of society, from the laborer up, 



xiv GEORGE ELIOT. 

to the extent that they preserved with her their natural 
bearing. On the other hand, her father's fortunate po- 
sition as land agent in the Newdigate family gave her 
the opportunity to come in contact with the landed 
gentry. 

In the book ' The Cheverels of Cheverel Manor * 
Lady Newdigate, in explaining how George Eliot got 
the information of traditions and stories from the 
manor house, which she had used in 'Mr. GilnTs 
Love-Story,' says with much bluntness : " Whilst 
Robert Evans was transacting estate work with the 
Squire in the library, she (Mary Anne Evans) proba- 
bly waited for him in the housekeeper's room at 
Arbury." Here, either by speech directed toward her 
or overheard, she learned the family history bit by 
bit. 

Thanks mainly to the cultivated instincts of Sir 
Roger Newdigate, there was an atmosphere of artistic 
breadth pervading Arbury House which must have 
exerted a strong influence on George Eliot's youth- 
ful mind and enabled her, unwittingly probably, to 
take up a position whence she could view her own en- 
vironment. Concerning this atmosphere and its ef- 
fects on George Eliot, Leslie Stephen says : " The 
impressions made upon the girl during these years are 
sufficiently manifest in the first scenes of her novels. 
Were it necessary to describe the general character of 
English country life, they would enable the ' graphic ' 
historian to give life and color to the skeleton made 
from statistical and legal information." 

These short stories were followed by the companion 
novels 'Adam Bede ' (1859) and 'The Mill on the 



HER WORK. XV 

Floss' (i860), the chief characters of which were 
drawn from George Eliot's own surroundings and ex- 
periences or personal knowledge. These novels thus 
contain a personal element that strongly attracts the 
reader. The simplicity of these stories renders them 
the most " popular " of the author's novels, since they 
are not above the comprehension of the majority of 
readers. 

' Adam Bede ' created a sensation in the literary 
world. It was startling in its originality, stirred peo- 
ple's hearts by its pathos, and aroused the greatest in- 
terest by its humor. Not only was it everywhere read 
and discussed, but the shrewd sayings were widely 
quoted, even in Parliamentary speeches. " ' Scenes 
of Clerical Life,' < Adam Bede,' « Silas Marner,' and 
' The Mill on the Floss ' probably give the most vivid 
picture now extant of the manners and customs of the 
contemporary dwellers in the midland counties of 
England." 

While numerous attempts have been made to iden- 
tify with her characters those with whom George 
Eliot came into personal contact, or knew from 
hearsay, yet great interest also centres in what may be 
termed autobiographical details in her novels, whether 
of fact or spirit. These latter are most evident in 
1 The Mill on the Floss,' where is to be found depicted 
much of her early life and thought. 

George Eliot's first three stories, the 'Scenes of 
Clerical Life,' relate to Nuneaton life. ' Adam Bede ' 
pertains to the borderland of Staffordshire and Derby- 
shire ; ' The Mill on the Floss ' to Lincolnshire ; and 
' Silas Marner,' < Felix Holt,' and ' Middlemarch ' to 



xvi GEORGE ELIOT. 

the central midland region which includes Warwick- 
shire. Thus, with the exception of ' Romola,' her 
stories were chiefly confined to the midland section of 
England, which, physiographically considered, is gen- 
erally conceded to be one of the least interesting 
regions of the island of Great Britain. A favorite 
companion of her father in his frequent drives over 
the country surrounding Nuneaton, George Eliot was 
a keen childish observer of the details of the section 
through which they passed and of the people with 
whom they came in contact. This gave her opportu- 
nities to observe the ways of a great variety of people, 
and she herself has recorded that she studied her Eng- 
lish life " among the midland villages and markets, 
along by the tree-studded hedgerows, and where the 
heavy barges (on the canal) seem in the distance to 
float mysteriously among the rushes and feathered 
grass " rather than " within the boundaries of an an- 
cestral park." The fact that this was a coal region 
added much to the variety that was open to her gaze, 
although it tended to accentuate more strongly the 
prevalence of commonplace life. 

After completing 'The Mill on the Floss,' there 
was a new departure in the character of George 
Eliot's works, concerning which Leslie Stephen says : 
" The publication of i Silas Marner ' marks an impor- 
tant change in the direction of George Eliot's work. 
The memories of early days are no longer to be the 
dominant factor in her imaginative world ; and hence- 
forth one charm disappears ; however completely to 
the taste of some readers, it may be replaced by 
others. She has begun ... to consider theories 



HER WORK. xvii 

about the relations of ethics and aesthetics and psy- 
chology; and hereafter the influence of her theory 
upon her writing will be more obvious." 

In < Silas Marner ' (1861) and < Felix Holt ' (1866), 
George Eliot has given us two imaginative novels 
which belong to the midland region only so far as 
concerns stage setting and personce. In the first of 
these books she has endeavored to "set in a strong 
light the remedial influences of pure natural human 
relations," and she was almost tempted to tell her 
story in metre. This mdre strictly imaginative devel- 
opment of ' Silas Marner ' gives it that impersonal 
character which will tend to make it a lasting work. 

The author of the ordinary novel does not connect 
the events and influences of the personal life that is 
described with humanity as a whole ; but this George 
Eliot has attempted to do in ' Felix Holt,' which, 
however, must be regarded as the least successful of 
her novels. In this book the author has taken up the 
problem of youth with active minds and an all-absorb- 
ing ideal ; in other words, the problem of radicalism 
as displayed in the moral awakening in England. 

George Eliot became so thoroughly imbued with 
the spirit of her early surroundings that throughout her 
whole after life she was able to reproduce in her mind's 
eye the minutest details of landscape or personal ac- 
tion. In the opening chapter of ' Felix Holt,' she 
has given a very graphic description of this midland 
section of Warwickshire and the neighboring counties. 

It has been pointed out that in her early novels 
George Eliot has given the results of the observations 
and experiences that naturally fell in her way, and 
b 



xviii GEORGE ELIOT. 

the portraiture is correspondingly sharp; but in the 
later works of ' Romola,' ' Middlemarch,' and ' Daniel 
Deronda,' there was an actual study of conditions for 
literary purposes; so that, with the writing of Romola,' 
still another new departure in method is made 
manifest. 

We must agree with Thomas Dawson in saying 
that the great purpose in 'Romola' (1863) is to 
show the effect of circumstance upon the development 
of human character, and all the historical background 
painted in the most intricate detail serves but to show 
up this development. George Eliot always tells the 
story of a soul, and in ' Romola ' George Eliot has 
left her living soul. 

' Middlemarch ' (1871-72) deals with a higher 
stratum of the English provincial society than that 
which is the main field of George Eliot's earlier 
novels, and while it lacked their peculiar charm, ow- 
ing to the more constrained and deeper philosophical 
reflections, and the less spontaneous action of its char- 
acters, yet there is an added strength which marks 
the highest level of her work. In commenting upon 
the success of ' Middlemarch,' Leslie Stephen re- 
marks : " George Eliot was now admittedly the first liv- 
ing novelist. Thackeray and Dickens were both dead, 
and no survivor of her generation could be counted 
as a rival." 

Although ' Middlemarch ' attained such success 
that George Eliot herself said that it was received 
with as much enthusiasm as any of her works, not 
excepting ' Adam Bede,' yet it brought out more 
forcibly than ever the melancholy and sadness that 



HER WORK. xi x 

prevail in her writings. As to the general tone of 
' Middlemarch,' even that conservative paper, the 
Spectator, felt obliged to admit, in connection with 
this book, that George Eliot was " the most melan- 
choly of authors." ' Middlemarch ' was written on a 
plan which gave little chance for the consecutive de- 
velopment of a plot, but it did permit the presenta- 
tion of community life in all its diversified interests. 

' Daniel Deronda ' (1876) was the last of George 
Eliot's novels, and is a dual story compounded of two 
sets of lives that here and there intersect. Here the 
author has given her highest ideal of the life of a man. 
Daniel is too perfect for reality, and in fact is almost 
feminine in character. One critic suggests that Daniel 
Deronda was George Eliot herself masquerading as 
a man. The author here discusses the class question 
by the introduction of the Jewish element, in which 
she shows her later sympathies with that nation. 

In the ' Impressions of Theophrastus Such ' (1879), 
George Eliot has returned to the essay, but of a much 
wider horizon than that of her Westminster Review 
days. Her topics are broader and their treatment 
more discursive and less pedantic than twenty years 
before. Here she had an opportunity to pour out 
her reflections unhindered by any fear lest she should 
make a story too heavy. These essays reveal her 
depth of individuality more truly than any other of 
her writings. 

It was during the years 1868—72 that George Eliot 
felt strongly the inclination to write poetry, and pro- 
duced those verses which must be regarded as but in- 
terruptions of her prose writings. Her most ambitious 



xx GEORGE ELIOT. 

poem, 'The Spanish Gypsy' (1868), displayed her 
strength as well as her weakness as a poet. In it she 
uses a Spanish historical setting, as she had previously, 
in ' Romola,' used an Italian background. The chief 
conception is the subordination of personal claims to 
those of class as demanded by destiny ; the self-sacri- 
fice of the individual for the general good. The 
story would undoubtedly have been more effective 
told in prose than in verse. Much has been written 
concerning George Eliot as a poet, and it seems to be 
the universal opinion that she lacked the poetic inspi- 
ration. Mr. James has given in half a sentence a 
clean-cut criticism of George Eliot's poetical writings, 
— " verse which is all reflection, with direct, vivifying 
vision, or emotion, remarkably absent." 

The identification of persons and places in George 
Eliot's novels has given some occupation to the ma- 
jority of writers who have treated of her works. In- 
deed, two writers have dealt wholly with the places : 
Rose Kingsley having published a brief article on 
' The County of George Eliot ' in the Century Maga- 
zine, 1885, and Mr. S. Parkinson a little book entitled 
' Scenes from the George Eliot Country ' (Leeds, 1888). 
These productions contain illustrations showing some 
of the houses in which George Eliot lived, and build- 
ings and towns which she has described in her writ- 
ings. Also in Cross's ' Life ' George Eliot herself 
gives much valuable information concerning her liter- 
ary geography. This Parkinson has freely used. 

It has been discriminatingly said that it is through 
the novel that we can best, or in fact we must, study 
the condition of person and place during the past 



HER WORK. xxi 

century ; and if the intrinsic value of the novels of that 
period depend on their palpable truthfulness, George 
Eliot must be placed at the head of the list of nine- 
teenth century English novelists. During the century 
the complexity of life was very much increased, and its 
presentation by the novelist became correspondingly 
difficult. George Eliot's novels show us in ' Silas 
Marner ' and ' Daniel Deronda ' the marked contrasts 
of the old simple life and the complex life due to 
modern influences. It is true that she selected " the 
people " for portrayal and confined herself to a lim- 
ited geographical area for her scenes, but by doing 
this she dealt with what she knew actually to exist 
by obtaining her information at first hand, and her 
works are of lasting value .^according as she has kept 
to this condition. This feature concerning a book, so 
well shown in ' Adam Bede,' is very different from that 
of inherent greatness as it is usually recognized and 
which is exemplified in ' Romola.' Oscar Browning 
points out, however, that although her novels depicting 
English Midland life are drawn from experience, 
yet they have the impersonal form that must belong 
to imperishable literature. 

Compassionate sympathy characterizes George 
Eliot's writings, but instead of allowing herself the 
freedom of the objective method as did Scott and 
Balzac, she kept herself in such a servitude to realism 
that her art has remained as nearly as possible true to 
actual conditions. 

Probably no other novelist has furnished a better 
opportunity than George Eliot for the critic to air his 
views as an interpreter of the meaning or significance 



xxii GEORGE ELIOT. 

of what the author has said. These psychological 
studies have been made by all classes of critics, from 
those who have written in the vein demanded by the 
popular magazines to those who have exercised all 
their ingenuity to conjure up meanings that origi- 
nated entirely within themselves and which never 
entered George Eliot's mind. Of all the critical 
estimates of George Eliot that have appeared, that of 
Henry James appeals to us as the best, although it is 
very brief. He has related his impressions in clear, 
simple language that goes straight to the mark, and 
has not permitted the indefinite ramblings that have 
characterized so much of the so-called critical work 
of others. 

As an example of the criticism that exists concern- 
ing George Eliot may be mentioned Mrs. Herrick's 
remark : " She seems to me to be the only woman in 
all the wide range of fictitious literature who has 
drawn a genuine, manly man ; " while Leslie Stephen 
thinks that she could not present accurately the essen- 
tially masculine elements in the character of men, 
although she portrayed with such strength those which 
belong to both sexes and those which are best devel- 
oped in the feminine sex. Her women, he thinks, 
have not been surpassed. Even ' Adam Bede,' as 
Leslie Stephen has acutely pointed out, " is a most 
admirable portrait ; but we can, we think, see clearly 
enough that he always corresponded to the view 
which an intelligent daughter takes of a respected 
father. . . . The true difficulty is again, I take it, that 
she was too thoroughly feminine to be quite at home 
in the psychology of the male animal. Her women 



HER WORK. xxiii 

are — so far as a man can judge — unerringly drawn. 
We are convinced at every point of the insight and 
fidelity of the analysis ; but when she draws a man, 
she has not the same certainty of touch." 

M. Brunetiere, the critic, calls George Eliot the 
founder of naturalism in English literature. He des- 
ignates as the soul of naturalism the intelligence and 
heartfelt sympathy which George Eliot possessed to 
such a wonderful degree ; and he says that " her pro- 
found psychology, her metaphysical solidity, and her 
moral breadth are displayed in that sympathetic 
treatment of the commonplace and ugly." 

In commenting upon ' Silas Marner,' Leslie Stephen 
remarks : " A modern realist would, I suppose, com- 
plain that George Eliot had omitted, or touched too 
slightly for his taste, a great many repulsive and brutal 
elements in the rustic world. Her portraits, indeed, 
are so vivid as to convince us of their fidelity; but 
she has selected the less ugly, and taken the point of 
view from which we see mainly what was wholesome 
and kindly in the little village community. 'Silas 
Marner' is a masterpiece in that way, and scarcely 
equalled in English literature." 

In Mr. Henry James's judgment, " ' Romola ' is on 
the whole the finest thing she wrote, but its defects 
are almost on the scale of its beauties." And again, 
almost in the same breath, he says : " It is on the 
whole a failure. The book is overladen with learn- 
ing and its characters lack life blood." 

George Eliot possessed the active scientific bent 
of mind rather than the receptive artistic. The works 
of art seemed not to have made the same impressions 



xxiv GEORGE ELIOT. 

on her that they would have on a more poetic nature. 
It was this lack of artistic temperament that kept her 
from giving to ' Romola ' a breathing atmosphere, but 
overloaded it with conditions and facts and made it 
as laboriously instructive as if it had been written by 
a German. Her preparation for the task was thor- 
oughly German in character, and, as Mr. James points 
out, was, alas ! thoroughly German in its result. 

The criticism has been made by Leslie Stephen that 
the true atmosphere of the times of the Renaissance 
is not represented in ' Romola,' and that while it 
serves admirably as an "academic" treatise, yet it 
does not satisfy the conditions of a romance of that 
period. In fact, to have done so, it would have been 
necessary to depict the morals of a time which only 
an audacious pen could present to a modern audience 
of readers. George Eliot would not have reproduced 
that life with the realistic faithfulness that distinguishes 
her stories of English life, even if she could have 
thrown herself into real sympathy with the every-day 
Florentine life, which is extremely doubtful. 

The treatment of the main problem that confronts 
Romola, " to keep alive that flame of unselfish emo- 
tion by which a life of sadness might well be a life of 
active love," is carried out with that powerful genius 
that distinguishes George Eliot at her best. " If we 
can put aside the historical paraphernalia, forget the 
dates and the historical Savonarola and Machiavelli, 
there remains a singularly powerful representation of 
an interesting spiritual history; of the ordeal through 
which a lofty nature has to pass when brought into 
collision with characters of baser composition. . . . 



HER WORK. XXV 

There is hardly any novel, except the 'Mill on the 
Floss/ in which the stages in the inner life of a 
thoughtful and tender nature are set forth with so 
much tenderness and sympathy. If Romola is far 
less attractive than Maggie, her story is more con- 
sistently developed to the end." 

" Hardly any heroine since Clarissa Harlowe has 
been so effective a centre of interest as Romola ; and 
if I regret that she was moved out of her own century 
and surrounded by a mass of irrelevant matter of 
antiquarian or sub-historical interest, I will not pre- 
sume to quarrel with people who do not admit the 
incongruity." 

In connection with George Eliot's diary, the brief 
comment on Balzac's ' Pere Goriot,' in which she calls 
it " a hateful book," causes Mr. James to remark 
that " it illuminates the author's [George Eliot's] 
general attitude with regard to the novel, which, for 
her, was not primarily a picture of life, capable of 
deriving a high value from its form, but a moralized 
fable, the last word of a philosophy endeavoring to 
teach by example." Although George Eliot herself 
has said (as quoted in Cross's ' Life,' Vol. III.) : " My 
function is that of the aesthetic, not the doctrinal 
teacher ; the rousing of the nobler emotions, which 
make mankind desire the social right; not the prescrib- 
ing of special measures, concerning which the artistic 
mind, however strongly moved by social sympathy, 
is often not the best judge," yet it would seem as 
though she did not fully realize the degree to which, 
especially in her later works, she philosophized in the 
abstract, and then applied her conclusions to the in- 



xxvi GEORGE ELIOT. 

dividual cases presented by her. She thus gave us 
the deductive novel in which the character was made 
to suit ner conclusions, rather than the direct results 
of observation of the individual. And yet in her 
application of her general conclusions to the individ- 
ual, George Eliot has shown her greatest genius, for 
she has been able to infuse them most naturally 
into creatures of flesh and blood. While one feels 
the philosophic spirit that pervades her stories, yet 
her characters fit so well into her background that 
they present and preserve the attractiveness that has 
caused her novels to be so widely read. As Henry 
James has said : " Nothing is finer in her genius than 
the combination of her love of general truth and love 
of the special case." 

It is this combination of the abstract and concrete 
that has given George Eliot her lasting position in 
the world of letters. Probably no other novelist 
gives back to the thinker so much of what he himself 
puts into the reading, and it is on this account that 
such widely divergent criticism has been possible in 
regard to George Eliot's works. 

Without doubt George Eliot's growing interest in 
the subjects to which Lewes devoted his parallel life, 
had much to do with the increased reflectiveness so 
apparent in her later works. She had always read 
widely in the physical sciences, and many of her illus- 
trations are drawn from this matter-of-fact source. 
This has deprived her writings of the charm of rich 
classical allusion that has served the purpose of so 
many writers who have won fame in their calling. 
Without Lewes's influence, George Eliot would prob- 



HER WORK. xxvii 

ably have retained more realism in her writings ; but 
his influence must not be overrated, for George Eliot 
was so much superior to him that it was mainly in 
petty or politic details that we can realize it directly. 
He was in a measure a scout and a guide, but hers 
was the generalship. 

George Eliot has made most skilful use of dialect 
in order to give naturalness to the homely spectacle 
of her characters. She has, however, taken pains not 
to overrun general intelligibility in using local speech, 
and specialists have not only admired her careful and 
accurate use of words, but she has herself become an 
authority. Concerning her use of dialect, George 
Eliot herself has said : " It must be borne in mind 
that my inclination to be as close as I could to the 
rendering of dialect, both in words and spelling, was 
constantly checked by the artistic duty of being gen- 
erally intelligible. But for that check I should have 
given a stronger color to the dialogue in 'Adam 
Bede,' which is modelled on the talk of North 
Staffordshire and the neighboring part of Derbyshire. 
The spelling, being determined by my own ear alone, 
was necessarily a matter of anxiety, for it would be as 
possible to quarrel about it as about the spelling of 
Oriental names. The district imagined as the scene 
of ' Silas Marner ' is in North Warwickshire ; but here, 
and in all my other presentations except 'Adam 
Bede,' it has been my intention to give the general 
physiognomy rather than a close portraiture of the 
provincial speech as I heard it in the Midland or 
Mercian region." One of the reasons why ' Romola ' 
lacks a true atmosphere was that George Eliot could 



xxviii GEORGE ELIOT. 

not give her character a natural way of speaking ac- 
cording to Italian conditions. 

George Eliot so closely analyzed some of her char- 
acters that it amounted to a dissection — a vivisection 
of the soul — and this introspection becomes actually 
saddening to some natures : the problems that she 
has selected for her themes have contributed towards 
increasing this effect. There can be no doubt, how- 
ever, but that George Eliot's reading public would 
have been much larger than it has been had the tone 
of her writings been less sombre ; for, notwithstanding 
the wit which she has displayed, not one of her novels 
leaves the reader in a joyous mood, but rather in one 
of subdued reflection. 

One feature that makes George Eliot's writings 
difficult reading for the masses, and in places really 
appreciable by only the more highly and broadly 
educated people, is her continual use of scientific 
metaphor. While this habit was one that she early 
exhibited and was thus unquestionably personal, yet 
it undoubtedly developed to its abnormal proportions 
through the influence of Mr. Lewes and the circle of 
scientists and more general philosophers that the 
Leweses drew about them. In reality, George Eliot 
applied the scientific method to her analysis of char- 
acter, and that was why she was able to do it with 
such certainty ; one critic has well remarked that 
" to study men as a branch of natural history was 
the inherent tendency of her mind." 

One advantage under which George Eliot wrote 
after her first success was the almost total freedom 
from outside influences except those of Mr. Lewes; 



HER WORK. xxix 

and these critics regard as non-beneficial in that he 
had in mind success before the public. But in the 
main George Eliot worked out each story, each char- 
acter, to its inevitable and logical conclusion as she 
saw it. 

With the publication of her 'Scenes of Clerical 
Life ' in Blackwood 's Magazine, George Eliot jumped 
at once into favor with the public that reads such 
periodicals. The publication of ' Adam Bede ' ex- 
tended her reputation into far lower circles, and won 
for her a popularity with the whole of the real reading 
public of the English language. The financial success 
of 'Adam Bede,' which sold 16,000 copies in one year, 
caused the Blackwoods to offer such generous terms 
for future books that George Eliot was independent 
of financial worry, although from the early sale of 
' Adam Bede ' itself she received but $8,000 ; this 
was, however, double the amount agreed upon. Her 
fame thus created, and firmly established by the 
publication of ' The Mill on the Floss,' gave to her 
writings a momentum that carried them into large 
editions, so that in all her later writings the number 
of copies that were sold of a book was no indication 
of its intrinsic value or the real interest which it 
aroused. 

At the present time the books rank, according to 
their popular demand, about in the following order, 
as indicated by the calls for them at a much-used 
American public library : ' Adam Bede,' ' Romola,' 
' Mill on the Floss,' ' Daniel Deronda,' ' Middlemarch,' 
' Silas Marner,' < Felix Holt.' 

In America the popularity of George Eliot's writ- 



xxx GEORGE ELIOT. 

ings as shown by their sales, is in the following order : 
' Adam Bede,' ' Romola,' ' Silas Marner,' ' Scenes of 
Clerical Life,' * Mill on the Floss,' ' Felix Holt.' 

' Middlemarch ' and ' Daniel Deronda ' both ap- 
peared at a time when pamphlet editions of popular 
books were at the height of their popularity. In 
consequence of the publication of several competing 
editions, these two books sold in larger numbers than 
any other of George Eliot's books and they became 
better known to the American public. 'Middle- 
march,' however, was and is still the more popular of 
the two. The 'Essays,' 'Poems,' and 'Impressions 
of Theophrastus Such ' were never popular to any 
great degree, and there was little demand for them 
outside of the complete sets of the author's works. 

Whatever may be the verdict, either popular or 
critical, concerning the question as to the greatest of 
George Eliot's works, there is one thing that all must 
recognize, and that is that during the period of her 
great productiveness there is an increase in the com- 
plexity and depth of her stories by reason of the greater 
number of actors and the more profound study of 
their psychological characteristics. As increased 
experience in life revealed its complexities, she 
endeavored to modify her work by taking advantage 
of her shifting point of view and its surroundings. 
What greater contrast could there be than that shown 
in 'The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton,' 
her first contribution to fiction, and ' Daniel Deronda,' 
her last novel ! In ' Amos Barton ' half a dozen per- 
sons may be regarded as really entering into the 
action of the story, which is very simple, while in 



HER WORK. xxxi 

' Daniel Deronda ' a host of personages appear, and 
the book presents subtile problems that can be appre- 
ciated by only the comparatively few. In the early 
novels the character studies are simple, as befits the 
simplicity of the lives of the people who enter into 
the story, and there is little that may not be compre- 
hended by any reader who has the capacity to read 
the books at all. But in ' Daniel Deronda' feelings 
and conditions appear that are narrowed down even 
to special university experiences. 

The position that George Eliot occupies in the lit- 
erary world is as firmly fixed as it can be until time 
shall have given her most enduring works their place 
in the world's literature. It is still too early to say 
which of her works will be thus honored, but the cri- 
terion of this selection by reading posterity must be 
found in the books themselves, irrespective of any 
local value as regards time or place. Those of her 
books which depend for their interest chiefly on 
these latter grounds have a place, and if valuable, 
as are 'Adam Bede,' 'The Mill on the Floss,' and 
' Daniel Deronda,' for their local coloring, will be of 
use to inquiring minds. But the other reason for the 
life of books, their continued appeal to readers of 
succeeding ages, depends on a broad conception of 
humanity which, while present in all of George Eliot's 
writings to a greater or less degree, yet appears to us 
to be most marked in ' Middlemarch ' and ' Silas 
Marner.' It is perhaps not too much to say that a 
profounder expression of human nature pervades 
' Middlemarch ' than is to be found in her other works, 
perhaps more than in any other English novel ; while 



xxxii GEORGE ELIOT. 

the perfection of ' Silas Marner,' which has resulted in 
its choice as a typical English fiction classic for study 
by school youths, will render its claims for a perma- 
nent place in literature a very strong one. 

Even Leslie Stephen is willing to admit that two 
decades after her death George Eliot's works have 
" not quite so high a position as was assigned to them 
by contemporary enthusiasm ; " but he gives as the 
cause the " partial misdirection of her powers in the 
later period." This was at the time when George 
Eliot was searching other fields than her own mind 
for building material. 

A new reason for the study of George Eliot's life 
has arisen in the selection of ' Silas Marner ' as one 
of the books in the required English in the entrance 
examination for college. This has occasioned a very 
wide study, not only of the required writings of George 
Eliot, but of her life as well : it has necessitated the 
preparation of a specially edited text of the novel. 
Of George Eliot's fiction, ' Silas Marner ' is for a num- 
ber of reasons the one best suited for student use. 
It is the shortest of the stories, and thus does not 
offer an overwhelming bulk. It is the most sponta- 
neous and artistic, and presents a perfection of form 
hardly to be met with in any other work of English 
fiction. The theme is one that appeals to the mass of 
mankind. She leads, or rather follows, ' Silas Marner ' 
through the vicissitudes of a simple narrow life in 
which confidence in life itself is overturned through 
treacherous friendship, to be restored through the me- 
dium of child nature. The high conception of the 
theme and the skilful manner in which the details of 



HER WORK. xxxiii 

thought and action which appeal broadly to human 
instincts are interwoven with it, together with the 
fact that a plane of society is chosen that every 
reader can understand, owing to its simplicity, tend 
to make the work a classic that appeals to a wide 
audience. 

The requirements, for student use, of biographical 
detail and a general summary of George Eliot's con- 
tribution to literature, are fully and singularly well 
met by Mathilde Blind's book. The features that es- 
pecially recommend it for such use are that it is not 
written over the heads of the youthful students who 
are called upon to familiarize themselves with George 
Eliot's life and works, and it contains much informa- 
tion that they might be expected to acquire con- 
cerning this author. 



THE CHIEF EVENTS OF GEORGE 
ELIOT'S LIFE. 



1819. November 22. Born at South Farm, Ar- 
bury, parish of Coton, Warwickshire, England. 

1820. March. Removed to Griff House, a little 
more than a mile from Nuneaton. 

1824. Attended Mrs. Moore's dame's school. 

1825. Sent to Miss Lathom's school, at Attle- 
borough, a suburb of Nuneaton. 

First books read : The Linnet's Life, 
yEsop's Fables, Joe Miller's Jest-book. 

1828. Entered Miss Wallington's school at Nun- 
eaton, where Miss Lewis was the principal governess. 
1832. At school kept by the Misses Franklin at 
Coventry. 

1836. Death of her mother. 

Became housekeeper at Griff. 
1838. First visit to London. 

1840. January. First poem published in the 
Christian Observer. 

1 84 1. March. Removed to Foleshill Road, Cov- 
entry. 

Began a chart of Ecclesiastical History. 
Acquaintanceship with the Brays began. 
1844. Began work on the translation into English 
of Strauss's ' Leben Jesu.' 



xxxvi CHIEF EVENTS OF 

1846. Completion of the translation of Strauss's 
' Life of Jesus.' 

1849. Wrote a review of ' Nemesis of Faith.' 
Translated Spinoza's 'Tractatus Theolog- 

ico-Politicus.' 

May 31. Death of her father. 

June. Left England for the Continent with 
the Brays ; went to Nice, Genoa, Milan, Como, Mag- 
giore, the Simplon, Chamounix, and settled at Geneva. 

1850. March. Returned to England. 

1 85 1. Wrote Review of Mackay's 'Progress of 
the Intellect.' 

Became assistant editor of the West- 
minster Review. 

Became acquainted with Herbert Spencer. 
Introduced to George Henry Lewes. 
Visit to Edinburgh. 

1853. Left Mr. Chapman's house and took lodg- 
ing on Cambridge Street, Hyde Park. 

1854. Union with Mr. Lewes. 

Translated Feuerbach's ' Essence of Chris- 
tianity.' 

Resigned the assistant editorship of the 
Westminster Review. 

Went to Antwerp, Weimar, and Berlin. 
Absent eight months. 

1855. March 13. Returned to England. 
Lived at 8 Park Shot, Richmond. 

Wrote articles for the Westminster Review 
and the Leader. 

1856. Translated Spinoza's 'Ethics.' 
Experience in Nature study. 



GEORGE ELIOT'S LIFE. xxxvii 

1856. September. First serious attempt at fiction 
writing. 

November 5. ' Amos Barton ' finished. 
May. « Mr. Gilfil's Love Story ' finished. 

1857. Assumed the name George Eliot. 
October 9. ' Janet's Repentance ' finished. 
October 22. ' Adam Bede ' begun. 

1858. February 28. George Eliot's identity re- 
vealed to John Blackwood. 

Visit to Germany. 

' The Mill on the Floss ' begun. 

February 5. Removed to Holly Lodge, 
Wandsworth. 

April 29. Finished 'The Lifted Veil.' 

Trip to Switzerland. 

June 20. Revealed the identity of George 
Eliot to her friends, the Brays and Sara Hennell. 
i860. March 21. Finished ' Million the Floss.' 

Spring. First journey to Italy : Rome, 
Naples, Florence, Venice. 

At Florence became fired with the idea of 
writing a historical romance : scene, Florence ; period, 
the close of the fifteenth century, which was marked by 
Savonarola's career and martyrdom. First conception 
of ' Romola.' 

Michaelmas. Left Wandsworth and re- 
moved to 10 Hare wood Square. 

Began ' Silas Marner.' 
1861. March 10. Finished 'Silas Marner.' 

Revisited Florence for local color for 
' Romola.' 

October 7. Began ' Romola.' 



xxxviii CHIEF EVENTS OF 

1862. Jan. 1. Resumed ' Romola.' 

1863. June 9. Finished 'Romola.' 
Third trip to Italy. 

1864. September. ' Spanish Gypsy ' begun. 

1865. March. ' Felix Holt ' begun. 
Trip to Brittany. 

1866. May 31. ' Felix Holt ' completed. 
Trip to Belgium and Holland. 

August 30. Resumed work on ' Spanish 
Gypsy.' 

October 13. Began 'Spanish Gypsy ' in 
its new form. 

1867. Journey to Spain for atmosphere and local 
color for the ' Spanish Gypsy.' 

Two months' trip to North Germany. 
Acquaintance with the Cross family began. 
November. Wrote Felix Holt's address to 
workingmen. 

1868. Made trip to Torquay. 

April 29. Finished ' Spanish Gypsy.' 
May 26. Trip to Baden. 

1869. January 1. ' Middlemarch ' decided upon. 
January. ' Agatha ' was written. 
February. ' How Lisa Loved the King ' 

completed. 

Spring. Fourth trip to Italy. 

' Sonnets on Childhood ' finished. ' Brother 
and Sister ' sonnets. 

At work on ' Middlemarch,' which during 
its early composition was called ' Miss Brooke.' 

1870. January 20. 'Legend of Jubal ' com- 
pleted. 



GEORGE ELIOT'S LIFE. xxxix 

1870. March and April. Journey to Berlin and 
Vienna. 

' Armgut ' completed. 

At work on ' Middlemarch.' 

187 1. At work on ' Middlemarch.' 

1872. September. ' Middlemarch ' completed. 
Fall. Trip to Homburg. 

1873. J un ^ 23. Started on a Continental trip of 
nine weeks. 

November. Thoughts " slowly simmering 
towards another big book (' Daniel Deronda ')." 
■^ 1874. May. Publication of collection of Poems. 

October. Trip to Ardennes. 

1875. At work on ' Daniel Deronda.' 

1876. April. Finished Book VII. of 'Daniel 
Deronda.' 

June to September. A trip to Germany 
and Switzerland. 

December. Purchased a house in Surrey, 
The Heights, Witley, near Godalming. 

1878. November. Sent the completed manuscript 
' Theophrastus Such ' to Blackwood. 

November 28. George Henry Lewes 
died. 

1879. Edited Mr. Lewes's unfinished manuscript. 
Spring. Read proof sheets of 'Theo- 
phrastus Such.' 

Spring. Plans to endow a physiological 
" studentship " fund at Cambridge in memory of 
Mr. Lewes. 

1880. May 6. George Eliot married to John 
Walter Cross, at St. George's, Hanover Square. 



xl GEORGE ELIOT'S LIFE. 

1880. May. Trip on the Continent, including 
Italy. 

May. George Eliot received a letter from 
her brother, Isaac P. Evans, the first in many years. 

December 3. Settled in new house at 4 
Cheyne Walk. 

December 22. George Eliot died. "Her 
body rests in Highgate Cemetery, in the grave next 
to Mr. Lewes." 



PREFATORY NOTE 



Detailed accounts of George Eliot's life 
have hitherto been singularly scanty. In the 
dearth of published materials a considerable 
portion of the information contained in this 
biographical study has, necessarily, been de- 
rived from private sources. In visiting the 
places connected with George Eliot's early 
life, I enjoyed the privilege of meeting her 
brother, Mr. Isaac Evans, and was also fortu- 
nate in gleaning many a characteristic fact 
and trait from old people in the neighborhood, 
contemporaries of her father, Mr. Robert 
Evans. For valuable help in forming an idea 
of the growth of George Eliot's mind, my 
warm thanks are especially due to her oldest 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bray, and Miss 
Hennell of Coventry. Miss Jenkins, the nov- 
elist's schoolfellow, and Mrs. John Cash, also 



xlii PREFATORY NOTE. 

generously afforded me every assistance in 
their power. 

A great part of the correspondence in the 
present volume has not hitherto appeared in 
print, and has been kindly placed at my dis- 
posal by Mrs. Bray, Mrs. Gilchrist, Mrs. Clif- 
ford, Miss Marks, Mr. William M. Rossetti, 
and the late James Thomson. I have also 
quoted from letters addressed to Miss Phelps 
which were published in Harper's Magazine 
of March 1882, and from one or two other 
articles that have appeared in periodical pub- 
lications. For permission to make use of 
this correspondence my thanks are due to 
Mr. C. L. Lewes. 

By far the most exhaustive published ac- 
count of George Eliot's life and writings, 
and the one of which I have most freely 
availed myself, is Mr. Call's admirable essay 
in the Westminster Review of July 1881. 
Although this, as indeed every other article 
on the subject, states George Eliot's birth- 
place incorrectly, it contains many important 
data not mentioned elsewhere. To the article 
on George Eliot in Blackwood's Magazine 
for February 1881, I owe many interesting 
particulars, chiefly connected with the be- 



PREFATORY NOTE. x liii 

ginning of George Eliot's literary career. 
Amongst other papers consulted may be men- 
tioned a noticeable one by Miss Simcox in the 
Contemporary Review, and an appreciative 
notice by Mr. Frederick Myers in Scribners 
Magazine, as well as articles in Harper s 
Magazine of May i88r, and The Century of 
August 1882. Two quaint little pamphlets, 
' Seth Bede : the Methody,' and ' George Eliot 
in Derbyshire/ by Guy Roslyn, although full 
of inaccuracies, have also furnished some 
curious items of information. 

Mathilde Blind. 



CONTENTS 
♦ 

Page 

George Eliot and her Work v 

The Chief Events of George Eliot's Life . . . xxxv 
Prefatory Note by Mathilde Blind xli 

Chapter 

I. Introductory . I 

II. Childhood and Early Home 12 

III. Youthful Studies and Friendships ... 29 

IV. Translation of Strauss and Feuerbach. — 

Tour on the Continent 58 

V. The ' Westminster Review ' 78 

VI. George Henry Lewes 103 

VII. Scenes of Clerical Life 121 

VIII. Adam Bede 140 

IX. The Mill on the Floss 163 

X. Silas Marner 181 

XI. Romola 196 

XII. Her Poems 213 



xlvi CONTENTS. 

Chapter Page 

XIII. Felix Holt and Middlemarch 232 

XIV. Daniel Deronda 254 

XV. Last Years 271 

APPENDIX 

George Eliot's Home Life and Friends .... 293 

George Eliot at Work 313 

George Eliot Bibliography 331 

INDEX 351 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Portrait of George Eliot Frontispiece 

George Eliot's Birthplace, South Farm, Arbury 

Park 12 

George Eliot's Home, Foleshill Road, Coventry . 54 

Griff House, George Eliot's Early Home .... 147 



GEORGE ELIOT 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

Speaking of the contributions made to lit- 
erature by her own sex, George Eliot, in a 
charming essay written in 1854, awards the 
palm of intellectual pre-eminence to the women 
of France. "They alone," says the great 
English author, "have had a vital influence 
on the development of literature. For in 
France alone the mind of woman has passed, 
like an electric current, through the language, 
making crisp and definite what is elsewhere 
heavy and blurred ; in France alone, if the 
writings of women were swept away, a serious 
gap would be made in the national history." 

The reason assigned by George Eliot for 
this literary superiority of Frenchwomen con- 
sists in their having had the courage of their 
sex. They thought and felt as women, and 
when they wrote, their books became the full- 



2 GEORGE ELIOT. 

est expression of their womanhood. And by 
being true to themselves, by only seeking 
inspiration from their own life-experience, 
instead of servilely copying that of men, their 
letters and memoirs, their novels and pictures, 
have a distinct, nay unique, value for the stu- 
dent of art and literature. Englishwomen, on 
the other hand, have not followed the sponta- 
neous impulses of nature. They have not 
allowed free play to the peculiarly feminine 
element, preferring to mould their intellectual 
products on the masculine pattern. For that 
reason, says George Eliot, their writings are 
" usually an absurd exaggeration of the mas- 
culine style, like the swaggering gait of a bad 
actress in male attire." 

This novel theory, concerning a specifi- 
cally feminine manifestation of the intellect, 
is doubly curious when one compares it with 
Madame de StaeTs famous saying, " Le genie 
ria pas de sexe." But an aphorism, however 
brilliant, usually contains only one half the 
truth, and there is every reason to think that 
women have already, and will much more 
largely, by-and-by, infuse into their works cer- 
tain intellectual and emotional qualities which 
are essentially their own. Shall we, however, 
admit George Eliot's conclusion that French- 
women alone have hitherto shown any of this 



INTRODUCTORY. 3 

original bias ? Several causes are mentioned 
by her in explanation of this exceptional merit. 
Among these causes there is one which would 
probably occur to every one who began to 
reflect on this subject. The influence of the 
" Salon " in developing and stimulating the 
finest feminine talents has long been recog- 
nized. In this school for women the gift of 
expression was carried to the utmost pitch 
of perfection. By their active co-operation 
in the discussion of the most vital subjects, 
thought became clear, luminous, and forcible ; 
sentiment gained indescribable graces of re- 
finement ; and wit, with its brightest scintilla- 
tions, lit up the sombre background of life. 

But among other causes enumerated as 
accounting for that more spontaneous pro- 
ductivity of Frenchwomen, attributed to them 
by George Eliot, there is one which would 
probably have occurred to no other mind 
than hers, and which is too characteristic of 
her early scientific tendencies to be omitted. 
For according to her, the present superiority 
of Frenchwomen is mainly due to certain 
physiological peculiarities of the Gallic race. 
Namely, to the " small brain and vivacious 
temperament which permit the fragile system 
of woman to sustain the superlative activity 
requisite for intellectual creativeness," whereas 



4 GEORGE ELIOT. 

" the larger brain and slower temperament of 
the English and Germans are in the womanly- 
organization generally dreamy and passive. 
So that the physique of a woman may suffice 
as the substratum for a superior Gallic mind, 
but is too thin a soil for a superior Teutonic 
one." 

So knotty and subtle a problem must be 
left to the scientist of the future to decide. 
Perhaps some promising young physiologist, 
profiting by the " George Henry Lewes Stu- 
dentship " founded by George Eliot, may 
some day satisfactorily elucidate this question. 
In the meanwhile it is at least gratifying to 
reflect that she does not deny the future 
possibilities of even English and German 
women. She admits that conditions might 
arise which in their case also would be favor- 
able to the highest creative effort ; conditions 
which would modify the existing state of 
things according to which, to speak in her 
own scientific phraseology : " The woman of 
large capacity can seldom rise beyond the 
absorption of ideas ; her physical conditions 
refuse to support the energy required for 
spontaneous activity ; the voltaic pile is not 
strong enough to produce crystallizations." 

But was the author of 'Adam Bede' not 
herself destined to be a triumphant refuta- 



INTR OD UCTOR Y. 5 

tion of her theory? Or had those more 
favorable circumstances mentioned as vague 
possibilities already arisen in her case ? Not 
that we believe, for that matter, in the supe- 
rior claims of illustrious Frenchwomen It is 
true George Eliot enumerates a formidable 
list of names. But on the whole we may 
boast of feminine celebrities that need not 
shrink from the comparison. 

There is, of course, much truth in the 
great Englishwoman's generous praise of her 
French compeers. " Mme. de Sevigne re- 
mains," she says, " the single instance of a 
woman who is supreme in a class of literature 
which has engaged the ambition of men ; 
Mme. Dacier still reigns the queen of blue- 
stockings, though women have long studied 
Greek without shame ; Mme. de StaeTs name 
still rises to the lips when we are asked to 
mention a woman of great intellectual power ; 
Mme. Roland is still the unrivalled type of 
the sagacious and sternly heroic yet lovable 
woman ; George Sand is the unapproached 
artist who, to Jean Jacques' eloquence and 
deep sense of external nature, unites the 
clear delineation of character and the tragic 
depth of passion." 

Shall we be forced to admit that the repre- 
sentative women of England cannot justly be 



6 GEORGE ELIOT. 

placed on as high a level ? Is it so certain 
that they, too, did not speak out of the ful- 
ness of their womanly natures ? That they, 
too, did not feel the genuine need to express 
modes of thought and feeling peculiar to 
themselves, which men, if at all, had but 
inadequately expressed hitherto ? 

Was not Queen Elizabeth the best type of 
a female ruler, one whose keen penetration 
enabled her to choose her ministers with 
infallible judgment? Did not Fanny Burney 
distil the delicate aroma of girlhood in one 
of the most delightful of novels ? Or what 
of Jane Austen, whose microscopic fidelity of 
observation has a well-nigh scientific accu- 
racy, never equalled unless in the pages of 
the author we are writing of ? Sir Walter 
Scott apparently recognized the eminently 
feminine inspiration of her writings, as he 
says : " That young lady had a talent for 
describing the involvements, and feelings, 
and characters of ordinary life, which is for 
me the most wonderful I ever met with. The 
Bow-wow strain I can do myself like any 
now agoing ; but the exquisite touch, which 
renders ordinary commonplace things and 
characters interesting from the truth of the 
descriptions and the sentiment, is denied to 
me." Then turning to the Brontes, does not 



INTRODUCTORY. j 

one feel the very heartbeats of womanhood in 
those powerful utterances that seem to spring 
from some central emotional energy ? Again, 
does not Mrs. Browning occupy a unique 
place among poets? Is there not a distinc- 
tively womanly strain of emotion in the throb- 
bing tides of her high-wrought melodious 
song ? And, to come to George Eliot her- 
self, will any one deny that, in the combi- 
nation of sheer intellectual power with an 
unparalleled vision for the homely details of 
life, she takes precedence of all writers of 
this or any other country ? To some extent 
this wonderful woman conforms to her own 
standard. She undoubtedly adds to the com- 
mon fund of crystallized human experience, 
as literature might be called, something which 
is specifically feminine. But, on the other 
hand, her intellect excels precisely in those 
qualities habitually believed to be masculine, 
one of its chief characteristics consisting in 
the grasp of abstract philosophical ideas. 
This faculty, however, by no means impairs 
those instinctive processes of the imagina- 
tion by which true artistic work is produced ; 
George Eliot combining in an unusual degree 
the subtlest power of analysis with that happy 
gift of genius which enabled her to create 
such characters as Amos Barton, Hetty, Mrs. 



8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Poyser, Maggie, and Tom Tulliver, Godfrey 
Cass, and Caleb Garth, which seem to come 
fresh from the mould of Nature itself. In- 
deed, she has hardly a rival among women in 
this power of objective imagination by which 
she throws her whole soul into natures of 
the most varied and opposite types, whereas 
George Sand only succeeds greatly when she 
is thoroughly in sympathy with her creations. 

After George Eliot's eulogium of French- 
women, one feels tempted to institute a 
comparison between these two great contem- 
poraries, who occupied the same leading posi- 
tion in their respective countries. But it will 
probably always remain a question of idiosyn- 
crasy which of the two one is disposed to 
rank higher, George Eliot being the greatest 
realist, George Sand the greatest idealist, of 
her sex. The works of the French writer 
are, in fact, prose poems rather than novels. 
They are not studies of life, but life inter- 
preted by the poet's vision. George Sand 
cannot give us a description of any scene 
in nature, of her own feelings, of a human 
character, without imparting to it some magi- 
cal effect as of objects seen under the trans- 
figuring influence of moonlight or storm 
clouds ; whereas George Eliot loves to bathe 
her productions in the broad pitiless midday 



INTRODUCTORY. 9 

light, which leaves no room for illusion, but 
reveals all nature with uncompromising di- 
rectness. The one has more of that primi- 
tive imagination which seizes on the elemental 
side of life — on the spectacle of the starry 
heavens or of Alpine solitudes, on the insur- 
rection and tumult of human passion, on the 
shocks of revolution convulsing the social 
order — while the other possesses, in a higher 
degree, the acute intellectual perception for 
the orderly sequence of life, for that un- 
changeable round of toil which is the lot of 
the mass of men, and for the earth in its 
homelier aspects as it tells on our daily exist- 
ence. In George Sand's finest work there is 
a sweet spontaneity, almost as if she were an 
oracle of Nature uttering automatically the 
divine message. But, on the other hand, 
when the inspiration forsakes her, she drifts 
along on a windy current of words, the fatal 
facility of her pen often beguiling the writer 
into vague diffuseness and unsubstantial dec- 
lamation. 

In this respect, also, our English novelist 
is the opposite of George Sand, for George 
Eliot invariably remains the master of her 
genius : indeed, she thoroughly fulfils Goethe's 
demand that if you set up for an artist you 
must command art. This intellectual self- 



IO GEORGE ELIOT. 

restraint never forsakes George Eliot, who 
always selects her means with a thorough 
knowledge of the ends to be attained. The 
radical difference in the genius of these two 
writers, to both of whom applies Mrs. Brown- 
ing's apt appellation of " large-brained woman 
and large-hearted man," extends naturally to 
their whole tone of thought. George Sand 
is impassioned, turbulent, revolutionary, the 
spiritual daughter of Rousseau, with an enthu- 
siastic faith in man's future destiny. George 
Eliot, contemplative, observant, instinctively 
conservative, her imagination dearly loving to 
do " a little Toryism on the sly," is as yet the 
sole outcome of the modern positive spirit in 
imaginative literature —r- the sole novelist who 
has incorporated in an artistic form some of 
the leading ideas of Comte, of Mazzini, and 
of Darwin. In fact, underlying all her art 
there is the same rigorous teaching of the 
inexorable laws which govern the life of man. 
The teaching that not liberty but duty is the 
condition of existence ; the teaching of the 
incalculable effects of hereditary transmission 
with the solemn responsibilities it involves ; 
the teaching of the inherent sadness and im- 
perfection in human nature, which render 
resignation the first virtue of man. 

In fact, as a moral influence, George Eliot 



INTRO D UCTOR Y. I r 

cannot so much be compared with George 
Sand, or with any other novelist of her gen- 
eration, as with Carlyle. She had, indeed, a 
far more explicit ethical code to offer than 
the author of ' Sartor Resartus.' For though 
the immense force of the latter's personality, 
glowing through his writings, had a tonic 
effect in promoting a healthy moral tone, 
there was little of positive moral truth to be 
gathered from them. But the lessons which 
George Eliot would fain teach to men were 
most unmistakable in their bearing — the 
lessons of pitying love towards fellow-men ; 
of sympathy with all human suffering ; of 
unwavering faithfulness towards the social 
bond, consisting in the claims of race, of 
country, of family ; of unflagging aspiration 
after that life which is most beneficent to the 
community, that life, in short, towards which 
she herself aspired in the now famous prayer 
to reach 

" That purest heaven, be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty — 
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 
And in diffusion ever more intense." 



CHAPTER II. 

CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 

Mary Ann Evans, better known as " George 
Eliot," was born on November 22nd, 18 19, 
at South Farm, Arbury near Griff, in the 
parish of Coton, in Warwickshire. Both 
the date and place of her birth have been 
incorrectly stated, hitherto, in the notices of 
her life. The family moved to Griff House 
in March of the following year, when she was 
only four months old. Her father, Robert 
Evans, of Welsh origin, was a Staffordshire 
man from Ellaston, in Staffordshire, and be- 
gan life as a carpenter. In the kitchen at 
Griff House may still be seen a beautifully 
fashioned oaken press, a sample of his work- 
manship. A portrait of him, also preserved 
there, is known among the family as " Adam 
Bede." It is not as good a likeness as that 
of a certain carefully painted miniature, the 
features of which bear an unmistakable re- 
semblance to those of the daughter destined 
to immortalize his name. A strongly marked, 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 



13 



yet handsome face, massive in structure, and 
with brown eyes, whose shrewd, penetrating 
glance is particularly noticeable, betoken the 
man of strong practical intelligence, of rare 
energy and endurance. His career and char- 
acter are partially depicted in Adam Bede, 
Caleb Garth, and Mr. Hackit — portraitures 
in which the different stages of his life are 
recorded with a mingling of fact and fiction. 
A shadowing forth of the same nature is dis- 
cernible in the devotion of Stradivarius to his 
noble craft ; and even in the tender paternity 
of Mr. Tulliver there are indications of an- 
other phase of the same individuality. 

Like Adam Bede, Mr. Evans from carpen- 
ter rose to be forester, and from forester to 
be land-agent. It was in the latter capacity 
alone that he was ever known in Warwick- 
shire. At one time he was surveyor to five 
estates in the midland counties — those of 
Lord Aylesford, Lord Lifford, Mr. Bromley 
Davenport, Mrs. Gregory, and Colonel New- 
digate. The last was his principal employer. 
The father of Colonel Newdigate, of Astley 
Castle, Mr. Francis Newdigate, induced him 
to settle in Warwickshire, and take charge of 
his estates. The country seat, Arbury Hall, 
is the original of the charming description of 
Cheverel Manor in ' Mr. Gilfil's Love Story.' 



14 GEORGE ELIOT. 

It is said that Mr. Evans's trustworthiness 
had become proverbial in the county. But 
while faithfully serving his employers he also 
enjoyed great popularity among their tenants. 
He was gentle, but of indomitable firmness ; 
and while stern to the idle and unthrifty, he 
did not press heavily on those who might be 
behindhand with their rent, owing to ill-luck 
or misfortune, on quarter days. 

Mr. Evans was twice married. He had lost 
his first wife, by whom he had a son and a 
daughter, before settling in Warwickshire. Of 
his second wife, whose maiden name was Pear- 
son, very little is known. She must, therefore, 
according to Schiller, have been a pattern of 
womanhood ; for he says that the best women, 
like the best ruled states, have no history. 
We have it on very good authority, however, 
that Mrs. Hackit, in ' Amos Barton/ is a 
faithful likeness of George Eliot's mother. 
This may seem startling at first, but, on re- 
flection, she is the woman one might have 
expected, being a strongly marked figure, 
with a heart as tender as her tongue is sharp. 
She is described as a thin woman, with a 
chronic liver-complaint, of indefatigable in- 
dustry and epigrammatic speech ; who, " in 
the utmost enjoyment of spoiling a friend's 
self-satisfaction, was never known to spoil a 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 15 

stocking." A notable housewife, whose clock- 
work regularity in all domestic affairs was 
such that all her farm-work was done by nine 
o'clock in the morning, when she would sit 
down to her loom. " In the same spirit, she 
brought out her furs on the first of November, 
whatever might be the temperature. She was 
not a woman weakly to accommodate herself 
to shilly-shally proceedings. If the season 
did n't know what it ought to do, Mrs. Hackit 
did. In her best days it was always sharp 
weather at ' Gunpowder Plot,' and she did n't 
like new fashions." Keenly observant and 
quick of temper, she was yet full of good 
nature, her sympathy showing itself in the 
active helpfulness with which she came to the 
assistance of poor Milly Barton, and the love 
she showed to her children, who, however, 
declined kissing her. 

Is there not a strong family resemblance 
between this character and Mrs. Poyser, that 
masterpiece of George Eliot's art ? Mary 
Ann's gift of pointed speech was therefore 
mother-wit, in the true sense, and her rich 
humor and marvellous powers of observa- 
tion were derived from the same side, while 
her conscientiousness, her capacity, and that ' 
faculty of taking pains, which is so large a 
factor in the development of genius, came 
more directly from the father. 



1 6 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Mr. Evans had three children by his second 
wife, Christiana, Isaac, and Mary Ann. " It 
is interesting, I think," writes George Eliot, 
in reply to some questions of an American 
lady, " to know whether a writer was born 
in a central or border district — a condition 
which always has a strongly determining in- 
fluence. I was born in Warwickshire, but 
certain family traditions connected with more 
northerly districts made these districts a re- 
gion of poetry to me in my early childhood." 
In the autobiographical sonnets, entitled 
' Brother and Sister,' we catch a glimpse of 
the mother preparing her children for their 
accustomed ramble, by stroking down the 
tippet and setting the frill in order ; then 
standing on the door-step to follow their les- 
sening figures "with the benediction of her 
gaze." Mrs. Evans was aware, to a certain 
extent, of her daughter's unusual capacity, 
being anxious not only that she should have 
the best education attainable in the neighbor- 
hood, but also that good moral influences 
should be brought to bear upon her : still, the 
girl's constant habit of reading, even in bed, 
caused the practical mother not a little an- 
noyance. 

The house, where the family lived at that 
time, and in which the first twenty years of 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. iy 

Mary Ann Evans's life were spent, is sit- 
uated in a rich verdant landscape, where the 
" grassy fields, each with a sort of personality 
given to it by the capricious hedge-rows," 
blend harmoniously with the red-roofed cot- 
tages scattered in a happy haphazard fashion 
amid orchards and elder-bushes. Sixty years 
ago the country was much more thickly 
wooded than now, and from the windows of 
Griff House might be seen the oaks and elms 
that had still survived from Shakespeare's 
forest of Arden. The house of the Evans 
family, half manor-house, half farm, was an 
old-fashioned building, two stories high, with 
red brick walls thickly covered with ivy. 
Like the Garths, they were probably "very 
fond of their old house." A lawn, inter- 
spersed with trees, stretched in front towards 
the gate, flanked by two stately Norway firs, 
while a sombre old yew almost touched some 
of the upper windows with its wide-spreading 
branches. A farm -yard was at the back, with 
low rambling sheds and stables ; and beyond 
that, bounded by quiet meadows, one may 
still see the identical " leafy, flowery, bushy " 
garden, which George Eliot so often delighted 
in describing, at a time when her early life, 
with all its tenderly hoarded associations, had 
become to her but a haunting memory of by- 



1 8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

gone things. A garden where roses and cab- 
bages jostle each other, where vegetables have 
to make room for gnarled old apple-trees, and 
where, amid the raspberry bushes and row of 
currant trees, you expect to come upon Hetty 
herself, " stooping to gather the low-hanging 
fruit." 

Such was the place where the childhood of 
George Eliot was spent. Here she drew in 
those impressions of English rural and pro- 
vincial life, of which one day she was to be- 
come the greatest interpreter. Impossible to 
be in a better position for seeing life. Not 
only was her father's position always im- 
proving, so that she was early brought in 
contact with different grades of society, but 
his calling made him more or less acquainted 
with all ranks of his neighbors, and, says 
George Eliot, " I have always thought that 
the most fortunate Britons are those whose 
experience has given them a practical share 
in many aspects of the national lot, who 
have lived long among the mixed commonalty, 
roughing it with them under difficulties, 
knowing how their food tastes to them, and 
getting acquainted with their notions and mo- 
tives, not by inference from traditional types 
in literature, or from philosophical theories, 
but from daily fellowship and observation." 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 19 

And what kind of a child was it who loi- 
tered about the farm-yard and garden and 
fields, noticing everything with grave, watch- 
ful eyes, and storing it in a memory of extraor- 
dinary tenacity ? One of her schoolfellows, 
who knew her at the age of thirteen, con- 
fessed to me that it was impossible to imagine 
George Eliot as a baby ; that it seemed as 
if she must have come into the world fully 
developed, like a second Minerva. Her feat- 
ures were fully formed at a very early age, 
and she had a seriousness of expression almost 
startling for her years. The records of her 
child-life may be deciphered, amid some ro- 
mantic alterations, in the early history of Tom 
and Maggie Tulliver. Isaac and Mary Ann 
Evans were playmates, like these, the latter 
having all the tastes of a boy ; whereas her 
sister Chrissy, said to be the original of Lucy 
Deane, had peculiarly dainty feminine ways, 
and shrank from out-door rambles for fear of 
soiling her shoes or pinafore. But Mary Ann 
and her brother went fishing together, or 
spinning tops, or digging for earth-nuts ; and 
the twice-told incident of the little girl being 
left to mind the rod and losing herself in 
dreamy contemplation, oblivious of her task, 
is evidently taken from life, and may be quoted 
as a reminiscence of her own childhood : — 



20 GEORGE ELIOT. 

" One day my brother left me in high charge 

To mind the rod, while he went seeking bait, 
And bade me, when I saw a nearing barge, 

Snatch out the line, lest he should come too late. 

" Proud of the task I watched with all my might 
For one whole minute, till my eyes grew wide, 
Till sky and earth took on a new, strange light, 
And seemed a dream-world floating on some tide. 

" A fair pavilioned boat for me alone, 
Bearing me onward through the vast unknown. 

" But sudden came the barge's pitch-black prow, 
Nearer and angrier came my brother's cry, 
And all my soul was quivering fear, when lo ! 
Upon the imperilled line, suspended high, 

" A silver perch ! My guilt that won the prey 
Now turned to merit, had a guerdon rich 
Of hugs and praises, and made merry play 
Until my triumph reached its highest pitch 

"When all at home were told the wondrous feat, 
And how the little sister had fished well. 
In secret, though my fortune tasted sweet, 
I wondered why this happiness befell. 

" ' The little lass had luck,' the gardener said ; 
And so I learned, luck was to glory wed." 

Unlike Maggie, however, little Mary Ann 
was as good a hand at fishing as her brother, 
only differing from him in not liking to put 
the worms on the hooks. 

Another incident taken from real life, if 
somewhat magnified, is the adventure with 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 2 \ 

the gypsies. For the prototype of Maggie 
also fell among these marauding vagrants, 
and was detained a little time among them. 
Whether she also proposed to instruct the 
gypsies and to gain great influence over them 
by teaching them something about " geogra- 
phy" and " Columbus," does not transpire. 
But, indeed, most of Maggie's early experi- 
ences are autobiographic, down to such facts 
as her father telling her to rub her "turnip" 
cheeks against Sally's to get a little bloom, 
and to cutting off one side of her hair in a 
passion. At a very early age Mary Ann and 
her brother were sent to a dame's school kept 
by a Mrs. Moore near Griff House. At the 
age of five she joined her sister "Chrissy" 
at Miss Lathom's school in Attleborough, 
where she continued for three or four years. 
There are still old men living who used to 
sit on the same form with little Mary Ann 
Evans learning her A, B, C, and a certain 
William Jacques (the original of the delight- 
fully comic Bob Jakins of fiction) remembers 
carrying her pick-a-back on the lawn in front 
of her father's house. 

In her eighth or ninth year Mary Ann was 
sent to a school at Nuneaton kept by a Miss 
Wallington. The principal governess was 
Miss Lewis, for whom she retained an affec- 



22 GEORGE ELIOT. 

tionate regard long years afterwards. About 
the same time she taught at a Sunday-school, 
in a little cottage adjoiningherfather's house. 
When she was twelve years old, being then, 
in the words of a neighbor, who occasionally 
called at Griff House," "a queer, three-cor- 
nered, awkward girl," who sat in corners and 
shyly watched her elders, she was placed as 
boarder with the Misses Franklin at Coventry. 
This school, then in high repute throughout 
the neighborhood, was kept by two sisters, of 
whom the younger, Miss Rebecca Franklin, 
was a woman of unusual attainments and lady- 
like culture, although not without a certain 
taint of Johnsonian affectation. She seems 
to have thoroughly grounded Miss Evans in a 
sound English education, laying great stress 
in particular on the propriety of a precise 
and careful manner of speaking and reading. 
She herself always made a point of express- 
ing herself in studied sentences, and on one 
occasion, when a friend had called to ask after 
a dying relative, she actually kept the servant 
waiting till she had framed an appropriately 
worded message. Miss Evans, in whose family 
a broad provincial dialect was spoken, soon 
acquired Miss Rebecca's carefully elaborated 
speech, and, not content with that, she might 
be said to have created a new voice for her- 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 23 

self. In later life every one who knew her 
was struck by the sweetness of her voice, and 
the finished construction of every sentence, 
as it fell from her lips ; for by that time the 
acquired habit had become second nature, and 
blended harmoniously with her entire person- 
ality. But in those early days the artificial 
effort at perfect propriety of expression was 
still perceptible, and produced an impression 
of affectation, perhaps reflecting that of her 
revered instructress. It is also believed that 
some of the beauty of her intonation in read- 
ing English poetry was owing to the same 
early influence. 

Mary Ann, or Marian as she came after- 
wards to be called, remained about three years 
with the Misses Franklin. She stood aloof 
from the other pupils, and one of her school- 
fellows, Miss Bradley Jenkins, says that she 
was quite as remarkable in those early days 
as after she had acquired fame. She seems 
to have strangely impressed the imagination 
of the latter, who, figuratively speaking, 
looked up at her " as at a mountain." There 
was never anything of the schoolgirl about 
Miss Evans, for, even at that early age, she 
had the manners and appearance of a grave, 
staid woman ; so much so, that a stranger, 
happening to call one day, mistook this girl 



24 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



of thirteen for one of the Misses Franklin, 
who were then middle-aged women. In this, 
also, there is a certain resemblance to Maggie 
Tulliver, who, at the age of thirteen, is de- 
scribed as looking already like a woman. 
English composition, French and German, 
were some of the studies to which much 
time and attention were devoted. Being 
greatly in advance of the other pupils in the 
knowledge of French, Miss Evans and Miss 
Jenkins were taken out of the general class 
and set to study it together ; but, though the 
two girls were thus associated in a closer 
fellowship, no real intimacy apparently fol- 
lowed from it. The latter watched the future 
" George Eliot " with intense interest, but al- 
ways felt as if in the presence of a superior, 
though socially their positions were much on 
a par. This haunting sense of superiority 
precluded the growth of any closer friendship 
between the two fellow-pupils. All the more 
startling was it to the admiring schoolgirl, 
when one day, on using Marian Evans's Ger- 
man dictionary, she saw scribbled on its blank 
page some verses, evidently original, express- 
ing rather sentimentally a yearning for love 
and sympathy. Under this granite-like ex- 
terior, then, there was beating a heart that 
passionately craved for human tenderness and 
companionship ! 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 



25 



Inner solitude was no doubt the portion 
of George Eliot in those days. She must 
already have had a dim consciousness of un- 
usual power, to a great extent isolating her 
from the girls of her own age, absorbed as 
they were in quite other feelings and ideas. 
Strong religious convictions pervaded her life 
at this period, and in the fervid faith and 
spiritual exaltation which characterize Mag- 
gie's girlhood, we have a very faithful picture 
of the future novelist's own state of mind. 
Passing through many stages of religious 
thought, she was first simple Church of 
England, then Low Church, then " Anti- 
Supernatural." In this latter character she 
wore an " Anti-Supernatural " cap, in which, 
so says an early friend, " her plain features 
looked all the plainer." But her nature was 
a mixed one, as indeed is Maggie's too, and 
conflicting tendencies and inclinations pulled 
her, no doubt, in different directions. The 
self-renouncing impulses of one moment were 
checkmated at another by an eager desire for 
approbation and distinguishing pre-eminence ; 
and a piety verging on asceticism did not ex- 
clude, on the other hand, a very clear per- 
ception of the advantages and desirability of 
good birth, wealth, and high social position. 
Like her own charming Esther in ' Felix 



26 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Holt/ she had a fine sense, amid somewhat 
anomalous surroundings, of the highest re- 
finements and delicacies which are supposed 
to be the natural attributes of people of rank 
and fashion. She even shared with the above- 
mentioned heroine certain girlish vanities and 
weaknesses, such as liking to have all things 
about her person as elegant as possible. 

About the age of sixteen Marian Evans left 
the Misses Franklin, and soon afterwards she 
had the misfortune of losing her mother, who 
died in her forty-ninth year. Writing to a 
friend in after life she says, " I began at six- 
teen to be acquainted with the unspeakable 
grief of a last parting, in the death of my 
mother." Less sorrowful partings ensued, 
though in the end they proved almost as 
irrevocable. Her elder sister, and the brother 
in whose steps she had once followed " puppy- 
like," married and settled in homes of their 
own. Their different lots in life, and the far 
more pronounced differences of their aims 
and ideas, afterwards divided the "brother 
and sister " completely. This kind of separa- 
tion between people who have been friends in 
youth is often more terrible to endure than 
the actual loss by death itself, and doth truly 
"work like madness in the brain." Is there not 
some reference to this in that pathetic passage 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY HOME. 27 

in 'Adam Bede : ' " Family likeness has often 
a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic 
dramatist, knits us together by bone and 
muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of 
our brains, blends yearning and repulsion, and 
ties us by our heartstrings to the beings that 
jar us at every movement . . . we see eyes 

— ah ! so like our mother's, averted from us 
in cold alienation." 

For some years after this Miss Evans and 
her father remained alone together at Griff 
House. He offered to get a housekeeper, as 
not the house only, but farm matters, had to 
be looked after, and he was always tenderly 
considerate of " the little wench," as he called 
her. But his daughter preferred taking the 
whole management of the place into her own 
hands, and she was as conscientious and dili- 
gent in the discharge of her domestic duties 
as in the prosecution of the studies she carried 
on at the same time. One of her chief beauties 
was in her large, finely shaped, feminine hands 

— hands which she has, indeed, described as 
characteristic of several of her heroines ; but 
she once pointed out to a friend at Foleshill 
that one of them was broader across than the 
other, saying, with some pride, that it was 
due to the quantity 'of butter and cheese she 
had made during her housekeeping days at 



28 GEORGE ELTOT. 

Griff. It will be remembered that this is 
a characteristic attributed to the exemplary- 
Nancy Lammeter, whose person gave one 
the idea of " perfect, unvarying neatness, as 
the body of a little bird," only her hands 
bearing " the traces of butter-making, cheese- 
crushing, and even still coarser work." Cer- 
tainly the description of the dairy in 'Adam 
Bede,' and all the processes of butter-making, 
is one which only complete knowledge could 
have rendered so perfect. Perhaps no scene 
in all her novels stands out with more life- 
like vividness than that dairy which one could 
have sickened for in hot, dusty streets : 
" Such coolness, such purity, such fresh fra- 
grance of new-pressed cheese, of firm butter, 
of wooden vessels perpetually bathed in pure 
water ; such soft coloring of red earthenware 
and creamy surfaces, brown wood and polished 
tin, gray limestone and rich orange-red rust 
on the iron weights and hooks and hinges." 

This life of mixed practical activity and in- 
tellectual pursuits came to an end in 1841, 
when Mr. Evans relinquished Griff House, 
and the management of Colonel Newdigate's 
estates, to his married son, and removed with 
his daughter to Foleshill, near Coventry. 



CHAPTER III. 

YOUTHFUL STUDIES AND FRIENDSHIPS. 

The period from about twenty to thirty is 
usually the most momentous in the lives of 
illustrious men and women. It is true that 
the most abiding impressions, those which 
the future author will reproduce most vividly, 
have been absorbed by the growing brain pre- 
vious to this age ; but the fusion of these 
varied impressions of the outward world with 
the inner life, and the endless combinations 
in which imagination delights, rarely begin 
before. Then, as a rule, the ideas are en- 
gendered to be carried out in the maturity of 
life. Alfred de Vigny says truly enough : 

" Qu'est-ce qu'une grande vie ? 
Une pensee de la jeunesse, executee par l'age mur." 

Moreover, it is a revolutionary age. In- 
herited opinions that had been accepted, as 
the rotation of the seasons, with unhesitating 
acquiescence, become an object of speculation 
and passionate questioning. Nothing is taken 



3o 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



upon trust. The intellect, stimulated by the 
sense of expanding and hitherto unchecked 
capacity, delights in exercising its strength 
by critically passing in review the opinions, 
laws, institutions commonly accepted as un- 
alterable. And if the intellect is thus active 
the heart is still more so. This is emphati- 
cally the time of enthusiastic friendship and 
glowing love, if often also of cruel disenchant- 
ment and disillusion. In most biographies, 
therefore, this phase of life is no less fasci- 
nating than instructive. For it shows the in- 
dividual while still in a stage of growth already 
reacting on his environment, and becoming a 
motive power according to the measure of his 
intellectual and moral endowments. 

It is on this state of George Eliot's life that 
we are now entering. At Foleshill she ac- 
quired that vast range of knowledge and 
universality of culture which so eminently 
distinguished her. 

The house she now inhabited, though not 
nearly as picturesque or substantial as the 
former home of the Evanses, was yet suffi- 
ciently spacious, with a pleasant garden in 
front and behind it ; the latter, Marian Evans 
was fond of making as much like the delicious 
garden of her childhood as was possible under 
the circumstances. In other respects she 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 3I 

greatly altered her ways of life, cultivating 
an ultra-fastidiousness in her manners and 
household arrangements. Though so young, 
she was not only entire mistress of her father's 
establishment, but, as his business required 
him to be abroad the greater part of each 
week, she was mostly alone. 

Her life now became more and more that 
of a student, one of her chief reasons for re- 
joicing at the change of residence being the 
freer access to books. She had, however, 
already amassed quite a library of her own by 
this time. In addition to her private studies, 
she was now also able to have masters to in- 
struct her in a variety of subjects. The Rev. 
T. Sheepshanks, head master of the Coventry 
Grammar-school, gave her lessons in Greek 
and Latin, as she particularly wished to learn 
the former language in order to read JEs- 
chylus. She continued her study of French, 
German, and Italian under the tuition of 
Signor Brezzi, even acquiring some knowl- 
edge of Hebrew by her own unassisted ef- 
forts. Mr. Simms, the veteran organist of 
St. Michael's, Coventry, instructed her in the 
pianoforte ; and probably Rosamond Vincy's 
teacher in ' Middlemarch ' is a faithful por- 
traiture of him. " Her master at Mrs. Lem- 
on's school (close to a country town with a 



32 GEORGE ELIOT. 

memorable history that had its relics in church 
and castle) was one of those excellent musi- 
cians here and there to be found in the prov- 
inces, worthy to compare with many a noted 
Kapellmeister in a country which offers more 
plentiful conditions of musical celebrity." 
George Eliot's sympathetic rendering of her 
favorite composers, particularly Beethoven 
and Schubert, was always delightful to her 
friends, although connoisseurs considered her 
possessed of little or no strictly technical 
knowledge. Be that as it may, many an ex- 
quisite passage scattered up and down her 
works, bears witness to her heartfelt apprecia- 
tion of music, which seems to have had a more 
intimate attraction for her than the fine arts. 
She shows little feeling for archaeological 
beauties, in which Warwickshire is so rich : 
in her ' Scenes of Clerical Life ' dismissing a 
fine monument of Lady Jane Grey, a genu- 
ine specimen of old Gothic art at Astley 
Church, with a sneer about "marble war- 
riors, and their wives without noses." 

In spite of excessive study, this period of 
Marian's life is not without faint echoes of an 
early love-story of her own. In the house 
of one of her married half-sisters she met a 
young man who promised, at that time, to 
take a distinguished position in his profes- 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 33 

sion. A kind of engagement, or semi-engage- 
ment, took place, which Mr. Evans refused to 
countenance, and finally his daughter broke it 
off in a letter, showing both her strong sense 
and profoundly affectionate nature. At this 
time she must have often had a painful con- 
sciousness of being cut off from that living 
fellowship with the like-minded so stimulating 
to the intellectual life. Men are not so sub- 
ject to this form of soul hunger as women ; 
for at their public schools and colleges they 
are brought into contact with their contem- 
poraries, and cannot fail to find comrades 
amongst them of like thoughts and aspira- 
tions with themselves. A fresh life, however, 
at once vivifying to her intellect and stimu- 
lating to her heart, now began for Marian 
Evans in the friendship she formed with Mr. 
and Mrs. Charles Bray of Rosehill, Coventry. 
Rahel — the subtly gifted German woman, 
whose letters and memoirs are a treasury 
of delicate observation and sentiment — ob- 
serves that people of marked spiritual affini- 
ties are bound to meet some time or other in 
their lives. If not entirely true, there is a 
good deal to be said for this comforting the- 
ory ; as human beings of similar nature seem 
constantly converging as by some magnetic 
attraction. 



34 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



The circle to which Miss Evans now hap- 
pened to be introduced was in every sense 
congenial and inspiriting. Mr. Bray, his wife, 
and his sister-in-law were a trio more like 
some delightful characters in a first-rate novel 
than the sober inhabitants of a Warwickshire 
country town. Living in a house beautifully 
situated on the outskirts of Coventry, they 
used to spend their lives in philosophical 
speculations, philanthropy, and pleasant so- 
cial hospitality, joining to the ease and laisser 
aller of continental manners a thoroughly 
English geniality and trustworthiness. 

Mr. Bray was a wealthy ribbon manufac- 
turer, but had become engrossed from an 
early age in religious and metaphysical specu- 
lation as well as in political and social ques- 
tions. Beginning to inquire into the dogmas 
which formed the basis of his belief, he found, 
on careful investigation, that they did not 
stand, in his opinion, the test of reason. His 
arguments set his brother-in-law, Mr. Charles 
C. Hennell, a Unitarian, to examine afresh 
and go carefully over the whole ground of 
popular theology, the consequence of this 
close study being the ' Inquiry concerning 
the Origin of Christianity,' a work which at- 
tracted a good deal of attention when it ap- 
peared, and was translated into German at the 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 35 

instance of David Strauss. It was published 
in 1838, a few years after the appearance 
of the ' Life of Jesus.' In its critical exami- 
nation of the miracles, and in the sifting 
of mythological from historical elements in 
the Gospels, it bears considerable analogy to 
Strauss's great work, although strictly based 
on independent studies, being originally noth- 
ing more than an attempt to solve the doubts 
of a small set of friends. Their doubts were 
solved, but not in the manner originally an- 
ticipated. 

Mrs. Bray, of an essentially religious na- 
ture, shared the opinions of her husband and 
brother, and without conforming to the exter- 
nal rites and ceremonies of a creed, led a 
life of saintly purity and self-devotion. The 
exquisite beauty of her moral nature not only 
attracted Marian to this truly amiable woman, 
but filled her with reverence, and the friend- 
ship then commenced was only ended by 
death. 

In Miss Sara Hennell, Marian Evans found 
another congenial companion who became as 
a sister to her. This singular being, in most 
respects such a contrast to her sister, high- 
strung, nervous, excitable, importing all the 
ardor of feeling into a life of austere thought, 
seemed in a manner mentally to totter under 



36 GEORGE ELIOT. 

the weight of her own immense metaphysical 
speculations. A casual acquaintance of these 
two young ladies might perhaps have pre- 
dicted that Miss Hennell was the one des- 
tined to achieve fame in the future, and she 
certainly must have been an extraordinary 
mental stimulus to her young friend Marian. 
These gifted sisters, two of a family, all the 
members of which were remarkable, by some 
are identified as the originals of the delight- 
ful Meyrick household in ' Daniel Deronda.' 
Each member of this genial group was al- 
ready, or ultimately became, an author of more 
or less repute. A reviewer in the Westmin- 
ster, writing of Mr. Bray's philosophical pub- 
lications, some years ago, said : " If he would 
reduce his many works to one containing 
nothing unessential, he would doubtless ob- 
tain that high place among the philosophers 
of our country to which his powers of thought 
entitle him." His most popular book, called 
' The Education of the Feelings,' intended for 
use in secular schools, deals with the laws 
of morality practically applied. Mrs. Bray's 
writings, on the same order of subjects, are 
still further simplified for the understanding of 
children. She is the authoress of ' Physiology 
for Schools,' ' The British Empire,' ' Elements 
of Morality,' etc. Her ' Duty to Animals ' has 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 37 

become a class book in the schools of the 
midland counties, and she was one of the first 
among those noble-hearted men and women 
who have endeavored to introduce a greater 
degree of humanity into our treatment of 
animals. 

George Eliot, writing to Mrs. Bray in March 
1873 on this very subject, says : 

" A very good, as well as very rich, woman, 

Mrs. S , has founded a model school at 

Naples, and has the sympathy of the best 
Italians in her educational efforts. Of course 
a chief point in trying to improve the Italians 
is to teach them kindness to animals, and 

a friend of Mrs. S has confided to her a 

small sum of money — fifty pounds, I think 
— to be applied to the translation and publi- 
cation of some good books for young people, 
which would be likely to rouse in them a 
sympathy with dumb creatures. 

" Will you kindly help me in the effort to 

further Mrs. S 's good work by sending 

me a copy of your book on animals, and also 
by telling me the periodical in which the parts 
of the book first appeared, as well as the titles 
of any other works which you think would 
be worth mentioning for the purpose in ques- 
tion ? 

" Mrs. S (as indeed you may probably 



38 GEORGE ELIOT. 

know) is the widow of a German merchant of 
Manchester, as rich as many such merchants 
are, and as benevolent as only the choicest 
few. She knows all sorts of good work for 
the world, and is known by most of the work- 
ers. It struck me, while she was speaking of 
this need of a book to translate, that you had 
done the very thing." 

A few days later the following highly inter- 
esting letter came from the same source : 

" Many thanks for the helpful things you 
have sent me. ' The Wounded Bird ' is 
charming. But now something very much 
larger of the same kind must be written, and 
you are the person to write it — something 
that will bring the emotions, sufferings, and 
possible consolations of the dear brutes viv- 
idly home to the imaginations of children : 
fitted for children of all countries, as Reineke 
Fuchs is comprehensible to all nations. A 
rough notion came to me the other day of 
supposing a house of refuge, not only for dogs, 
but for all distressed animals. The keeper of 
this refuge understands the language of the 
brutes, which includes differences of dialect 
not hindering communication even between 
birds and dogs, by the help of some Ulysses 
among them who is versed in the various 
tongues, and puts in the needed explanations. 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 39 

Said keeper overhears his refugees solacing 
their evenings by telling the story of their 
experiences, and finally acts as editor of their 
autobiographies. I imagine my long-loved 
fellow-creature, the ugly dog, telling the sor- 
rows and the tender emotions of gratitude 
which have wrought him into a sensitive soul. 
The donkey is another cosmopolitan sufferer, 
and a greater martyr than Saint Lawrence. 
If we only knew what fine motives he has for 
his meek endurance, and how he loves a friend 
who will scratch his nose ! 

" All this is not worth anything except to 
make you feel how much better a plan you 
can think of. 

" Only you must positively write this book 
which everybody wants — this book which 
will do justice to the share our ' worthy fel- 
low-laborers ' have had in the groaning and 
travailing of the world towards the birth of 
the right and fair. 

" But you must not do it without the ' sus- 
tenance of labor,' — I don't say ' pay,' since 
there is no pay for good work. Let Mr. . . . 
be blest with the blessing of the unscrupulous. 
I want to contribute something towards help- 
ing the brutes, and helping the children, espe- 
cially the southern children, to be good to the 
creatures who are continually at their mercy. 



4 GEORGE ELIOT. 

I can't write the needed book myself, but I 
feel sure that you can, and that you will not 
refuse the duty." 

Mrs. Bray's answer to this humorous sug- 
gestion may be gathered from George Eliot's 
amiable reply : 

" I see at once that you must be right about 
the necessity for being simple and literal. In 
fact I have ridiculous impulses in teaching 
children, and always make the horizon too 
wide. 

" ' The Wounded Bird ' is perfect of its 
kind, and that kind is the best for a larger 
work. You yourself see clearly that it is an 
exceptional case for any one to be able to 
write books for children without putting in 
them false morality disguised as devout re- 
ligion. And you are one of the exceptional 
cases. I am quite sure, from what you have 
done, that you can do the thing which is still 
wanted to be done. As to imagination, ' The 
Wounded Bird ' is full of imagination." 

These extracts pleasantly illustrate both the 
writer and recipient of such humane letters ; 
and, though written at a much later period, 
not only give an idea of the nature of Mrs. 
Bray's literary pursuits, but of the friendly 
relations subsisting to the end between her 
and George Eliot. 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 41 

Of Miss Hennell's work it is more difficult 
to speak without entering more deeply into 
her subject-matter than is compatible with 
the scope of the present work. In one of 
her best known books, entitled ' Thoughts in 
Aid of Faith,' she makes the daring attempt 
to trace the evolution of religion, her mode 
of thought partaking at once of the scientific 
and the mystical. For the present she seems 
to be one of the very few women who have 
ventured into the arena of philosophy; and, 
curiously enough, her doctrine is that there 
should be a feminine method in metaphysics 
as well as a masculine, the sexes, according 
to this singular theory, finding their counter- 
part in religion and science. It may be re- 
membered that George Eliot, in one of her 
essays, is of opinion that women should en- 
deavor to make some distinctively feminine 
contributions to the intellectual pursuits they 
engage in, saying, " Let the whole field of 
reality be laid open to woman as well as to 
man, and then that which is peculiar in her 
mental modification, instead of being, as it is 
now, a source of discord and repulsion be- 
tween the sexes, will be found to be a neces- 
sary complement to the truth and beauty of 
life. Then we shall have that marriage of 
minds which alone can blend all the hues 



42 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



of thought and feeling in one lovely rainbow 
of promise for the harvest of happiness." 
Something of the same idea lies at the root 
of much in Miss Hennell's mystical disqui- 
sitions. 

This circumstantial account of the circle to 
which Miss Evans was now introduced has 
been given, because it consisted of friends 
who, more than any others, helped in the 
growth and formation of her mind. No hu- 
man being, indeed, can be fully understood 
without some knowledge of the companions 
that at one time or other, but especially during 
the period of development, have been inti- 
mately associated with his or her life. How- 
ever vastly a mountain may appear to loom 
above us from the plain, on ascending to its 
summit one always finds innumerable lesser 
eminences which all help in making up the 
one imposing central effect. And similarly 
in the world of mind, many superior natures, 
in varying degrees, all contribute their share 
towards the maturing of that exceptional in- 
tellectual product whose topmost summit is 
genius. 

The lady who first introduced Marian Evans 
to the Brays was not without an object of her 
own, for her young friend — whose religious 
fervor, tinged with evangelical sentiment, was 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 43 

as conspicuous as her unusual learning and 
thoughtfulness — seemed to her peculiarly fit- 
ted to exercise a beneficial influence on the 
Rosehill household, where generally unortho- 
dox opinions were much in vogue. 

Up to the age of seventeen or eighteen 
Marian had been considered the most truly 
pious member of her family, being earnestly 
bent, as she says, "to shape this anomalous 
English Christian life of ours into some con- 
sistency with the spirit and simple verbal tenor 
of the New Testament." " I was brought up," 
she informs another correspondent, " in the 
Church of England, and have never joined 
any other religious society ; but I have had 
close acquaintance with many dissenters of 
various sects, from Calvinistic Anabaptists to 
Unitarians." Her inner life at this time is 
faithfully mirrored in the spiritual experiences 
of Maggie Tulliver. Marian Evans was not 
one who could rest satisfied with outward ob- 
servances and lip-worship : she needed a faith 
which should give unity and sanctity to the 
conception of life ; which should awaken " that 
recognition of something to be lived for be- 
yond the mere satisfaction of self, which is to 
the moral life what the addition of a great 
central ganglion is to animal life." At one 
time Evangelicalism supplied her with the 



44 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



most essential conditions of a religious life : 
with all the vehemence of an ardent nature 
she flung her whole soul into a passionate 
acceptance of the teaching of Christianity* 
carrying her zeal to the pitch of asceticism. 

This was the state of her mind, at the age 
of seventeen, when her aunt from Wirksworth 
came to stay with her. Mrs. Elizabeth Evans 
(who came afterwards to be largely identified 
with Dinah Morris) was a zealous Wesleyan, 
having at one time been a noted preacher ; 
but her niece, then a rigid Calvinist, hardly 
thought her doctrine strict enough. When 
this same aunt paid her a visit, some years 
afterwards, at Foleshill, Marian's views had 
already undergone a complete transformation, 
and their intercourse was constrained and 
painful ; for the young evangelical enthusiast, 
who had been a favorite in clerical circles, 
was now in what she afterwards described 
as a " crude state of freethinking." It was a 
period of transition through which she grad- 
ually passed into a new religious synthesis. 

Her intimacy with the Brays began about 
the time when these new doubts were begin- 
ning to ferment in her. Her expanding mind, 
nourished on the best literature, ancient and 
modern, began to feel cramped by dogmas 
that had now lost their vitality ; yet a break 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 45 

with an inherited form of belief to which a 
thousand tender associations bound her, was 
a catastrophe she shrank from with dread. 
Hence a period of mental uncertainty and 
trouble. In consequence of these inward 
questionings, it happened that the young lady 
who had been unwittingly brought to convert 
her new acquaintances was converted by them. 
In intercourse with them she was able freely 
to open her mind, their enlightened views 
helping her in this crisis of her spiritual life ; 
and she found it an intense relief to feel no 
longer bound to reconcile her moral and in- 
tellectual perceptions with a particular form 
of worship. 

The antagonism she met with in certain 
quarters, the social persecution from which 
she had much to suffer, are perhaps responsi- 
ble for some of the sharp, caustic irony with 
which she afterwards assailed certain theologi- 
cal habits of thought. It is not unlikely that 
in some of her essays for the Westminster 
Review she mainly expressed the thoughts 
which were stirred in her by the opposition 
she encountered at this period of her life — 
as, for example, in the brilliant paper entitled 
' Worldliness and Other- Worldliness,' which 
contains such a scathing passage as the fol- 
lowing : 



46 GEORGE ELIOT. 

" For certain other elements of virtue, 
which are of more obvious importance to un- 
theological minds, — a delicate sense of our 
neighbor's rights, an active participation in 
the joys and sorrows of our fellow-men, a 
magnanimous acceptance of privation or suf- 
fering for ourselves when it is the condition 
of good to others, in a word, the extension 
and intensification of our sympathetic nature, 
we think it of some importance to contend, 
that they have no more direct relation to the 
belief in a future state than the interchange 
of gases in the lungs has to the plurality of 
worlds. Nay, to us it is conceivable that to 
some minds the deep pathos lying in the 
thought of human mortality — that we are 
here for a little while and then vanish away, 
that this earthly life is all that is given to our 
loved ones, and to our many suffering fellow- 
men, lies nearer the fountains of moral emo- 
tion than the conception of extended existence. 
. . . To us it is matter of unmixed rejoicing 
that this latter necessity of healthful life is 
independent of theological ink, and that its 
evolution is insured in the interaction of hu- 
man souls as certainly as the evolution of 
science or of art, with which, indeed, it is but 
a twin ray, melting into them with undefinable 
limits." 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 47 

It was, of course, inevitable that her changed 
tone of mind should attract the attention of 
the family and friends of Marian, and that the 
backsliding of so exemplary a member should 
afford matter for scandal in many a clerical 
circle and evangelical tea-meeting. Close to 
the Evanses there lived at that time a dis- 
senting minister, whose daughter Mary was a 
particular favorite of Marian Evans. There 
had been much neighborly intimacy between 
the two young ladies, and though there was 
only five years' difference between them, 
Marian always inspired her friend with a 
feeling of awe at her intellectual superiority. 
Yet her sympathy — that sympathy with all 
human life which was the strongest element 
of her character — was even then so irresisti- 
ble that every little trouble of Mary's life was 
intrusted to her keeping. But the sudden 
discovery of their daughter's friend being an 
" infidel " came with the shock of a thunder- 
clap on the parents. Much hot argument 
passed between the minister and this youthful 
controversialist, but the former clinched the 
whole question by a triumphant reference to 
the dispersion of the Jews throughout the 
world as an irrefutable proof of the divine in- 
spiration of the Bible. In spite of this vital 
difference on religious questions, Miss Evans 



48 GEORGE ELIOT. 

was suffered to go on giving the minister's 
daughter lessons in German, which were 
continued for two or three years, she hav- 
ing generously undertaken this labor of love 
twice a week, because she judged from the 
shape of her young friend's head — phrenol- 
ogy being rife in those days — that she must 
have an excellent understanding. But, better 
than languages, she taught her the value of 
time, always cutting short mere random talk 
by simply ignoring it. Altogether the won- 
derful strength of her personality manifested 
itself even at this early period in the indelible 
impression it left on her pupil's memory, many 
of her sayings remaining graven on it as 
on stone. As, for instance, when one day 
twitting Mary's too great self-esteem she 
remarked, " We are very apt to measure our- 
selves by our aspiration instead of our per- 
formance." Or when on a friend's asking, 
" What is the meaning of Faust ? " she re- 
plied, " The same as the meaning of the uni- 
verse." While reading ' Wallensteiri s Lager' 
with her young pupil, the latter happened 
to say how life-like the characters seemed : 
"Don't say seemed" exclaimed Marian; "we 
know that they are true to the life." And 
she immediately began repeating the talk of 
laborers, farriers, butchers, and others of that 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 49 

class, with such close imitation as to startle 
her friend. Is not this a fore-shadowing of 
the inimitable scene at the ' Rainbow ' ? 

By far the most trying consequence of her 
change of views was that now, for the first 
time, Marian was brought into collision with 
her father, whose pet she had always been. 
He could not understand her inward perplexi- 
ties, nor the need of her soul for complete 
inward unity of thought, a condition impos- 
sible to her under the limiting conditions 
of a dogmatic evangelicalism, " where folly 
often mistakes itself for wisdom, ignorance 
gives itself airs of knowledge, and selfish- 
ness, turning its eyes upwards, calls itself 
religion." She, on the other hand, after a 
painful struggle, wanted to break away from 
the old forms of worship, and refused to go 
to church. Deeply attached though she was 
to her father, the need to make her acts con- 
form with her convictions became irresistible. 
Under such conflicting tendencies a rupture 
between father and daughter became immi- 
nent, and for a short time a breaking up of 
the home was contemplated, Marian intending 
to go and live by herself in Coventry. One 
of the leading traits in her nature was its ad- 
hesiveness, however, and the threat of separa- 
tion proved so painful to her that her friends, 
4 



5o 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



Mr. and Mrs. Bray, persuaded her to conform 
to her father's wishes as far as outward ob- 
servances were \mplied, and for the rest he 
did not trouble himself to inquire into her 
thoughts or occupations. 

From a letter written at this period it 
appears that the ' Inquiry Concerning the 
Origin of Christianity' had made a most 
powerful impression on her mind. Indeed, 
she dated from it a new birth. But so earnest 
and conscientious was she in her studies, that 
before beginning its longed-for perusal, she 
and a friend determined to read the Bible 
through again from beginning to end. 

The intimacy between the inmates of Rose- 
hill and the girl student at Foleshill mean- 
while was constantly growing closer. They 
met daily, and in their midst the humorous 
side of her nature expanded no less than 
her intellect. Although striking ordinary ac- 
quaintances by an abnormal gravity, when 
completely at her ease she at times bubbled 
over with fun and gayety, irradiated by the 
unexpected flashes of a wit whose full scope 
was probably as yet unsuspected by its pos- 
sessor. Not but that Miss Evans and her 
friends must have been conscious, even at 
that early age, of extraordinary powers in her, 
destined some day to give her a conspicuous 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 5I 

position in the world. For her conversation 
was already so full of charm, depth, and com- 
prehensiveness, that all talk after hers seemed 
stale and common-place. Many were the dis- 
cussions in those days between Mr. Bray and 
Marian Evans, and though frequently broken 
off in fierce dispute one evening, they always 
began again quite amicably the next. Mr. 
Bray probably exercised considerable influ- 
ence on his young friend's mind at this im- 
pressible period of life ; perhaps her attention 
to philosophy was first roused by acquaint- 
ance with him, and his varied acquirements 
in this department may have helped in giving 
a positive direction to her own thoughts. 

Mr. Bray was just then working out his 
'Philosophy of Necessity,' the problems dis- 
cussed being the same as those which have 
occupied the leading thinkers of the day : 
Auguste Comte in his ' Positive Philoso- 
phy ; ' Buckle in his ' History of Civiliza- 
tion ; ' and Mr. Herbert Spencer in his 
' Sociology.' The theory that, as an indi- 
vidual and collectively, man is as much sub- 
ject to law as any of the other entities in 
nature, was one of those magnificent ideas 
which revolutionize the world of thought. 
Many minds, in different countries, of dif- 
ferent calibre, were all trying to systematize 



52 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



what knowledge there was on this subject in 
order to convert hypothesis into demonstra- 
tion. To what extent Mr. Bray may have 
based his 'Philosophy of Necessity' on in- 
dependent research, or how much was merely 
assimilated from contemporary sources, we 
cannot here inquire. Enough that the ideas 
embodied in it represented some of the most 
vital thought of the age, and contributed 
therefore not a little to the formation of 
George Eliot's mind, and to the grip which 
she presently displayed in the handling of 
philosophical topics. 

In 1842 the sensation created by Dr. 
Strauss's Leben Jesu had even extended 
to so remote a district as Warwickshire. 
Some persons of advanced opinions, deeply 
impressed by its penetrating historical criti- 
cism, which was in fact Niebuhr's method 
applied to the elucidation of the Gospels, 
were very desirous of obtaining an English 
translation of this work ; meeting at the 
house of a common friend, the late Mr. 
Joseph Parkes of Birmingham, they agreed, 
in the first blush of their enthusiasm, to raise 
amongst them whatever sum might be re- 
quired for the purpose. Mr. Hennell, the 
leading spirit in this enterprise, proposed that 
the translation should be undertaken by Miss 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 53 

Brabant, the accomplished daughter of Dr. 
Brabant, a scholar deeply versed in theologi- 
cal matters, who was in friendly correspond- 
ence with Strauss and Paulus in Germany 
and with Coleridge and Grote in England. 
The lady in question, though still in her 
teens, was peculiarly fitted for the task, as 
she had already translated some of Baur's 
erudite writings on theological subjects into 
English. But when she had done about one 
half of the first volume, her learned labors 
came to an unexpected conclusion, as she be- 
came engaged to Mr. Hennell, who to great 
mental attainments joined much winning buoy- 
ancy of manner. And on her marriage with 
this gentleman she had to relinquish her task 
as too laborious. 

Miss Brabant's acquaintance with Marian 
began in 1843, and in the summer of that 
year the whole friendly group started on an 
excursion to Tenby. During their stay at 
this watering-place the lady who had begun, 
and the lady destined eventually to accom- 
plish, the enormous labor of translating the 
' Life of Jesus,' gave tokens of feminine 
frivolity by insisting on going to a public 
ball, where, however, they were disappointed, 
as partners were very scarce. It should be 
remembered that Marian Evans was only 



54 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



twenty-three years old at this time, but, 
though she had not yet done anything, her 
friends already thought her a wonderful wo- 
man. She never seems to have had any real 
youthfulness, and her personal appearance 
greatly improved with time. It is only to 
the finest natures, it should be remembered, 
that age gives an added beauty and distinc- 
tion ; for the most persistent self has then 
worked its way to the surface, having modi- 
fied the expression, and to some extent the 
features, to its own likeness. 

There exists a colored sketch done by Mrs. 
Bray about this period, which gives one a 
glimpse of George Eliot in her girlhood. In 
those Foleshill days she had a quantity of 
soft pale-brown hair worn in ringlets. Her 
head was massive, her features powerful and 
rugged, her mouth large but shapely, the jaw 
singularly square for a woman, yet having a 
certain delicacy of outline. A neutral tone 
of coloring did not help to relieve this gen- 
eral heaviness of structure, the complexion 
being pale but not fair. Nevertheless the 
play of expression and the wonderful mobility 
of the mouth, which increased with age, gave 
a womanly softness to the countenance in cu- 
rious contrast with its framework. Her eyes, 
of a gray-blue, constantly varying in color, 



"~-»^ 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 55 

striking some as intensely blue, others as of 
a pale, washed-out gray, were small and not 
beautiful in themselves, but when she grew 
animated in conversation, those eyes lit up 
the whole face, seeming in a manner to trans- 
figure it. So much was this the case, that a 
young lady, who had once enjoyed an hour's 
conversation with her, came away under its 
spell with the impression that she was beau- 
tiful, but afterwards, on seeing George Eliot 
again when she was not talking, she could 
hardly believe her to be the same person. The 
charm of her nature disclosed itself in her 
manner and in her voice, the latter recalling 
that of Dorothea, in being " like the voice of 
a soul that has once lived in an ^Eolian harp." 
It was low and deep, vibrating with sympathy. 
Mr. Bray, an enthusiastic believer in phre- 
nology, was so much struck with the grand 
proportions of her head that he took Marian 
Evans to London to have a cast taken. He 
thinks that, after that of Napoleon, her head 
showed the largest development from brow to 
ear of any person's recorded. The similarity 
of type between George Eliot's face and Savo- 
narola's has been frequently pointed out. Some 
affinity in their natures may have led her, if 
unconsciously, to select that epoch of Florentine 
life in which he played so prominent a part. 



56 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Though not above the middle height 
Marian gave people the impression of being 
much taller than she really was, her figure, 
although thin and slight, being well-poised 
and not without a certain sturdiness of make. 
She was never robust in health, being deli- 
cately strung, and of a highly nervous tem- 
perament. In youth the keen excitability of 
her nature often made her wayward and hys- 
terical. In fact her extraordinary intellectual 
vigor did not exclude the susceptibilities and 
weaknesses of a peculiarly feminine organiza- 
tion. With all her mental activity she yet 
led an intensely emotional life, a life which 
must have held hidden trials for her, as in 
those days she was known by her friends " to 
weep bucketf uls of tears." 

A woman of strong passions, like her own 
Maggie, deeply affectionate by nature, of a 
clinging tenderness of disposition, Marian 
Evans went through much inward struggle, 
through many painful experiences before she 
reached the moral self-government of her 
later years. Had she not, it is hardly likely 
that she could have entered with so deep a 
comprehension into the most intricate wind- 
ings of the human heart. That, of course, 
was to a great extent due to her sympathy, 
sympathy being the strongest quality of her 



YOUTHFUL STUDIES, ETC. 



S7 



moral nature. She flung herself, as it were, 
into other lives, making their affairs, their 
hopes, their sorrows her own. And this 
power of identifying herself with the people , 
she came near had the effect of a magnet 
in attracting her fellow-creatures. If friends 
went to her in their trouble they would find 
not only that she entered with deep feeling 
into their most minute concerns, but that, by 
gradual degrees, she lifted them beyond their 
personal distress, and that they would leave 
her presence in an ennobled and elevated 
frame of mind. This sympathy was closely 
connected with her faculty of detecting and 
responding to anything that showed the 
smallest sign of intellectual vitality. She es- 
sentially resembled Socrates in her manner 
of eliciting whatsoever capacity for thought 
might be latent in the people she came in 
contact with : were it only a shoemaker or 
day-laborer, she would never rest till she had 
found out in what points that particular man 
differed from other men of his class. She 
always rather educed what was in others than 
impressed herself on them ; showing much 
kindliness of heart in drawing out people who 
were shy. Sympathy was the keynote of her 
nature, the source of her iridescent humor, of 
her subtle knowledge of character, and of her 
dramatic genius. 



CHAPTER IV. 

TRANSLATION OF STRAUSS AND FEUERBACH. — 
TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. 

Miss Brabant's marriage to Mr. Charles 
Hennell occurred some, months after this 
excursion to Tenby. In the meanwhile it 
was settled that Miss Evans should continue 
her translation of Dr. Strauss's Leben yesu. 
Thus her first introduction to literature was 
in a sense accidental. The result proved her 
admirably fitted for the task ; for her version 
of this searching and voluminous work re- 
mains a masterpiece of clear nervous English, 
at the same time faithfully rendering the 
spirit of the original. But it was a vast and 
laborious undertaking, requiring a large share 
of patience, will, and energy, quite apart from 
the necessary mental qualifications. On this 
occasion, to fit herself more fully for her 
weighty task, Marian taught herself a consid- 
erable amount of Hebrew. But she groaned, 
at times, under the pressure of the toil which 
had necessarily to be endured, feeling tempted 



TRANSLATION OF STRAUSS, ETC. 59 

to relinquish what must often have seemed 
almost intolerable drudgery. The active in- 
terest and encouragement of her friends, 
however, tided her over these moments of 
discouragement, and after three years of as- 
siduous application, the translation was finally 
completed, and brought out by Dr. (then Mr.) 
John Chapman in 1846. It is probably safe 
to assume that the composition of none of her 
novels cost George Eliot half the effort and 
toil which this translation had done. Yet so 
badly is this kind of literary work remuner- 
ated, that twenty pounds was the sum paid 
for what had cost three years of hard labor ! 

Indeed, by this time, most of the twelve 
friends who had originally guaranteed the 
sum necessary for the translation and pub- 
lication of the ' Life of Jesus ' had conven- 
iently forgotten the matter ; and had it not 
been for the generosity of Mr. Joseph Parkes, 
who volunteered to advance the necessary 
funds, who knows how long the MS. transla- 
tion might have lain dormant in a drawer at 
Foleshill ? It no sooner saw the light, how- 
ever, than every one recognized the excep- 
tional merits of the work. And for several 
years afterwards Miss Evans continued to be 
chiefly known as the translator of Strauss's 
Leben Jesu. 



60 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Soon after relieving Miss Brabant from the 
task of translation, Miss Evans went to stay 
for a week or two in the home of Dr. Bra- 
bant, who sadly felt the loss of his daughter's 
intelligent and enlivening companionship. No 
doubt the society of this accomplished scholar, 
described by Mr. Grote as " a vigorous self- 
thinking intellect," was no less congenial than 
instructive to his young companion ; while 
her singular mental acuteness and affection- 
ate womanly ways were most grateful to the 
lonely old man. There is something very 
attractive in this episode of George Eliot's 
life. It recalls a frequently recurring situa- 
tion in her novels, particularly that touching 
one of the self -renouncing devotion with which 
the ardent Romola throws herself into her 
afflicted father's learned and recondite pur- 
suits. 

There exists a letter written to an intimate 
friend in 1846, soon after the translation of 
Strauss was finished, which, I should say, 
already shows the future novelist in embryo. 
In this delightfully humorous mystification of 
her friends, Miss Evans pretends that, to her 
gratification, she has actually had a visit from 
a real live German professor, whose musty per- 
son was encased in a still mustier coat. This 
learned personage has come over to England 



TRANSLATION OF STRAUSS, ETC. 6 1 

with the single purpose of getting his volumi- 
nous writings translated into English. There 
are at least twenty volumes, all unpublished, 
owing to the envious machinations of rival 
authors, none of them treating of anything 
more modern than Cheops, or the invention 
of the hieroglyphics. The respectable pro- 
fessor's object in coming to England is to 
secure a wife and translator in one. But 
though, on inquiry, he finds that the ladies 
engaged in translation are legion, they mostly 
turn out to be utterly incompetent, besides 
not answering to his requirements in other 
respects. The qualifications he looks for in a 
wife, besides a thorough acquaintance with 
English and German, being personal ugliness 
and a snug little capital, sufficient to supply 
him with a moderate allowance of tobacco 
and Schwarzbier, after defraying the expense 
of printing his books. To find this phoenix 
among women he is sent to Coventry on all 
hands. 

In Miss Evans, so she runs on, the aspiring 
professor finds his utmost wishes realized, 
and so proposes to her on the spot ; think- 
ing that it may be her last chance, she ac- 
cepts him with equal celerity, and her father, 
although strongly objecting to a foreigner, is 
induced to give his consent for the same 



62 GEORGE ELIOT. 

reason. The lady's only stipulation is that 
her future husband shall take her out of Eng- 
land, with its dreary climate and drearier 
inhabitants. This being settled, she invites 
her friends to come to her wedding, which is 
to take place next week. 

This lively little jeu d' esprit is written in 
the wittiest manner, and one cannot help 
fancying that this German Dryasdust con- 
tained the germ of one of her very subtlest 
masterpieces in characterization, that of the 
much-to-be-pitied Casaubon, the very Sisy- 
phus of authors. In the lady, too, willing to 
marry her parchment-bound suitor for the 
sake of co-operating in his abstruse mental 
labors, we have a faint adumbration of the 
simple-minded Dorothea. 

But these sudden stirrings at original in- 
vention did not prevent Miss Evans from 
undertaking another task, similar to her last, 
if not so laborious. She now set about trans- 
lating Ludwig Feuerbach's Wesen des Christen- 
tkums. This daring philosopher, who kept 
aloof from professional honors, and dwelt 
apart in a wood, that he might be free to 
handle questions of theology and metaphysics 
with absolute fearlessness, had created a great 
sensation by his philosophical criticism in 
Germany. Unlike his countrymen, whose 



TRANSLATION OF STRAUSS, ETC. 6$ 

writings on these subjects are usually envel- 
oped in such an impenetrable mist that their 
most perilous ideas pass harmlessly over the 
heads of the multitude, Feuerbach, by his 
keen incisiveness of language and luminous- 
ness of exposition, was calculated to bring 
his meaning home to the average reader. 
Mr. Garnett's account of the ' Essence of 
Christianity ' in the ' Encyclopaedia Britan- 
nica/ admirably concise as it is, may be 
quoted here, as conveying in the fewest 
words the gist of this " famous treatise, where 
Feuerbach shows that every article of Chris- 
tian belief corresponds to some instinct or 
necessity of man's nature, from which he in- 
fers that it is the creation and embodiment 
of some human wish, hope, or apprehension. 
. . . Following up the hint of one of the old- 
est Greek philosophers, he demonstrates that 
religious ideas have their counterparts in 
human nature, and assumes that they must 
be its product." 

The translation of the ' Essence of Chris- 
tianity' was also published by Mr. Chapman 
in 1854. It appeared in his 'Quarterly Se- 
ries,' destined " to consist of works by learned 
and profound thinkers, embracing the sub- 
jects of theology, philosophy, biblical criti- 
cism, and the history of opinion." Probably 



64 GEORGE ELIOT. 

because her former translation had been so 
eminently successful, Miss Evans received 
fifty pounds for her present work. But there 
was no demand for it in England, and Mr. 
Chapman lost heavily by its publication. 

About the same period Miss Evans also 
translated Spinoza's De Deo for the benefit 
of an inquiring friend. But her English ver- 
sion of the ' Ethics ' was not undertaken till 
the year 1854, after she had left her home at 
Foleshill. In applying herself to the severe 
labor of rendering one philosophical work 
after another into English, Miss Evans, no 
doubt, was bent on elucidating for herself 
some of the most vital problems which en- 
gage the mind when once it has shaken it- 
self free from purely traditional beliefs, rather 
than on securing for herself any pecuniary 
advantages. But her admirable translations 
attracted the attention of the like-minded, 
and she became gradually known to some of 
the most distinguished men of the time. 

Unfortunately her father's health now be- 
gan to fail, causing her no little pain and 
anxiety. At some period during his illness 
she stayed with him in the Isle of Wight, for 
in a letter to Mrs. Bray, written many years 
afterwards, she says, " The ' Sir Charles Gran- 
dison ' you are reading must be the series of 



TRANSLATION OF STRAUSS, ETC. 65 

little fat volumes you lent me to carry to the 
Isle of Wight, where I read it at every inter- 
val when my father did not want me, and 
was sorry that the long novel was not longer. 
It is a solace to hear of any one's reading and 
enjoying Richardson. We have fallen on an 
evil generation who would not read ' Clarissa' 
even in an abridged form. The French have 
been its most enthusiastic admirers, but I 
don't know whether their present admiration 
is more than traditional, like their set phrases 
about their own classics." 

During the last year of her father's life his 
daughter was also in the habit of reading 
Scott's novels aloud to him for several hours 
of each day ; she must thus have become 
deeply versed in his manner of telling the 
stories in which she continued to delight all 
her life ; and in speaking of the widening of 
our sympathies which a picture of human life 
by a great artist is calculated to produce, 
even in the most trivial and selfish, she gives 
as an instance Scott's description of Luckie 
Mucklebackit's cottage, and his story of the 
' Two Drovers.' 

But a heavy loss now befell Marian Evans 

in the death of her father, which occurred in 

1849. Long afterwards nothing seemed to 

afford consolation to her grief. For eight 

5 



66 GEOXGE ELIOT. 

years these two had kept house together, and 
the deepest mutual affection had always sub- 
sisted between them. Manan ever treasured 
her father's memory. As George Eliot she 
loved to recall in her works everything as- 
sociated with him in her childhood; those 
happy times when, standing between her 
father's knees, she used to be driven by him 
to "outlying hamlets, whose groups of in- 
habitants were as distinctive to my imagina- 
tion as if they belonged to different regions 
of the globe." Miss Evans, however, was 
not suffered to mourn uncomforted. The 
tender friends who cared for her as a sister, 
now planned a tour to the Continent in hopes 
that the change of scene and associations 
would soften her grief. 

So they started on their travels, going to 
Switzerland and Italy by the approved route, 
which in those days was not so hackneyed 
as it now is. To so penetrating an observer as 
Miss Evans there must have been an infinite 
interest in this first sight of the Continent. 
But the journey did not seem to dispel her 
grief, and she continued in such very low 
spirits that Mrs. Bray almost regretted hav- 
ing taken her abroad so soon after her be- 
reavement. Her terror, too, at the giddy 
passes which they had to cross, with preci- 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. §>j 

pices yawning on either hand — so that it 
seemed as if a false step must send them 
rolling into the abyss — was so overpowering 
that the sublime spectacle of the snow-clad 
Alps seemed comparatively to produce but 
little impression on her. Her moral triumph 
over this constitutional timidity, when any 
special occasion arose, was all the more re- 
markable. One day when crossing the Col 
de Balme from Martigny to Chamounix, one 
of the side-saddles was found to be badly 
fitted, and would keep turning round, to the 
risk of the rider, if not very careful, slipping 
off at any moment. Marian, however, insisted 
on having this defective saddle in spite of 
the protest of Mrs. Bray, who felt quite 
guilty whenever they came to any perilous 
places. 

How different is this timidity from George 
Sand's hardy spirit of enterprise ! No one 
who has read that captivating book, her 
Lettres d'un Voyageur, can forget the great 
Frenchwoman's description of a Swiss expe- 
dition, during which, while encumbered with 
two young children, she seems to have borne 
all the perils, fatigues, and privations of a 
toilsome ascent with the hardihood of a 
mountaineer. But it should not be forgot- 
ten that Miss Evans was just then in a 



68 GEORGE ELIOT. 

peculiarly nervous and excitable condition, 
and her frequent fits of weeping were a source 
of pain to her anxious fellow-travellers. She 
had, in fact, been so assiduous in attendance 
on her sick father, that she was physically 
broken down for a time. Under these cir- 
cumstances an immediate return to England 
seemed unadvisable, and, when her friends 
started on their homeward journey, it was 
decided that Marian should remain behind 
at Geneva. 

Here, amid scenes so intimately associated 
with genius — where the " self -torturing soph- 
ist, wild Rousseau," placed the home of his 
' Nouvelle Heloise! and the octogenarian Vol- 
taire spent the serene Indian summer of his 
stirring career ; where Gibbon wrote his ' His- 
tory of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
Empire ; ' where Byron and Shelley sought 
refuge from the hatred of their countrymen, 
and which Madame de Stael complainingly 
exchanged for her beloved Rue du Bac — 
here the future author of 'Romola' and 
' Middlemarch ' gradually recovered under the 
sublime influences of Nature's healing beau- 
ties. 

For about eight months Miss Evans lived 
at a boarding-house, " Le Plongeau," near 
Geneva. But she was glad to find a quieter 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. 69 

retreat in the family of an artist, M. D'Albert, 
becoming much attached to him and his 
wife. Established in one of the lofty upper 
stories of this pleasant house, with the blue 
shimmering waters of the lake glancing far 
below, and the awful heights of Mont Blanc 
solemnly dominating the entire landscape, 
she not only loved to prosecute her studies, 
but, in isolation from mankind, to plan glo- 
rious schemes for their welfare. During this 
stay she drank deep of Rousseau, whose 
works, especially Les Confessions, made an 
indelible impression on her. And when in- 
citing a friend to study French, she remarked 
that it was worth learning that language, if 
only to read him. At the same period Marian 
probably became familiarized with the mag- 
nificent social Utopias of St. Simon, Proudhon, 
and other French writers. Having under- 
gone a kind of mental revolution herself not 
so long ago, she must have felt some sym- 
pathy with the thrilling hopes of liberty 
which had agitated the states of Western 
Europe in 1849. But, as I have already 
pointed out, her nature had conservative 
leanings. She believed in progress only as 
the result of evolution, not revolution. And 
in one of her most incisive essays, entitled 
'The National History of German Life,' she 



7o 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



finely points out the " notable failure of revo- 
lutionary attempts conducted from the point 
of view of abstract democratic and socialistic 
theories." In the same article she draws a 
striking parallel between the growth of lan- 
guage and that of political institutions, con- 
tending that it would be as unsatisfactory to 
" construct a universal language on a rational 
basis " — one that had " no uncertainty, no 
whims of idiom, no cumbrous forms, no fitful 
shimmer of many-hued significance, no hoary 
archaisms ' familiar with forgotten years,' " — 
as abruptly to alter forms of government 
which are nothing, in fact, but the result of 
historical growth, systematically embodied by 
society. 

Besides the fascinations of study, and the 
outward glory of nature, the charm of social 
intercourse was not wanting to this life at 
Geneva. In M. D' Albert, a very superior 
man, gentle, refined, and of unusual mental 
attainments, she found a highly desirable daily 
companion. He was an artist by profession, 
and it is whispered that he suggested some 
of the traits in the character of the delicate- 
minded Philip Wakem in the ' Mill on the 
Floss.' The only portrait in oils which ex- 
ists of George Eliot is one painted by M. 
D'Albert at this interesting time of her life. 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. j\ 

She inspired him, like most people who came 
into personal contact with her, with the ut- 
most admiration and regard, and, wishing to 
be of some service, he escorted Miss Evans 
to England on her return thither. Curiously 
enough, M. D' Albert subsequently translated 
one of her works, probably 'Adam Bede,' 
without in the least suspecting who its real 
author was. 

It is always a shock when vital changes 
have occurred in one's individual lot to re- 
turn to a well-known place, after an absence 
of some duration, to find it wearing the same 
unchangeable aspect. One expects somehow 
that fields and streets and houses would show 
some alteration corresponding to that within 
ourselves. But already from a distance the 
twin spires of Coventry, familiar as house- 
hold words to the Warwickshire girl, greeted 
the eyes of the returning traveller. In spite 
of all love for her native spot of earth, this 
was a heavy time to Marian Evans. Her 
father was dead, the home where she had 
dwelt as mistress for so many years broken 
up, the present appearing blank and comfort- 
less, the future uncertain and vaguely terrify- 
ing. The question now was where she should 
live, what she should do, to what purposes 
turn the genius whose untried and partially 



72 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



unsuspected powers were darkly agitating her 
whole being. 

As has been already said, Marian Evans 
had a highly complex nature, compounded of 
many contradictory impulses, which, though 
gradually brought into harmony as life ma- 
tured, were always pulling her, in those days, 
in different directions. Thus, though she 
possessed strong family affections, she could 
not help feeling that to go and take up her 
abode in the house of some relative, where 
life resolved itself into a monotonous recur- 
rence of petty considerations, something after 
the Glegg pattern, would be little short of 
crucifixion to her, and, however deep her at- 
tachment for her native soil may have been, 
she yet sighed passionately to break away 
from its associations, and to become " a wan- 
derer and a pilgrim on the face of the earth." 

For some little time after her return from 
abroad Marian took up her residence with 
her brother and his family. But the children 
who had toddled hand-in-hand in the fields 
together had now diverged so widely that no 
memories of a mutual past could bridge over 
the chasm that divided them. Under these 
circumstances the family at Rosehill pressed 
her to make their home permanently hers, 
and for about a year, from 1850 to 185 1, she 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. 



73 



became the member of a household in fullest 
sympathy with her. Here Mr. Bray's many- 
sided mental activity and genial brightness of 
disposition, and his wife's exquisite goodness 
of heart, must have helped to soothe and 
cheer one whose delicately strung nature was 
just then nearly bending under the excessive 
strain of thought and feeling she had gone 
through. One person, indeed, was so struck 
by the grave sadness generally affecting her, 
that it seemed to him as if her coming took 
all the sunshine out of the day. But whether 
grave or gay, whether meditative or playful, 
her conversation exercised a spell over all 
who came within its reach. 

In the pleasant house at Rosehill distin- 
guished guests were constantly coming and 
going, so that there was no lack of the needed 
intellectual friction supplied by clever and 
original talk. Here in a pleasant garden, 
planted with rustling acacia trees, and open- 
ing on a wide prospect of richly wooded, 
undulating country, with the fitful brightness 
of English skies overhead, and a smooth- 
shaven lawn to walk or recline upon, many 
were the topics discussed by men who had 
made, or were about to make, their mark. 
Froude was known there. George Combe 
discussed with his host the principles of phre- 



74 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



nology, at that time claiming " its thousands 
of disciples." Ralph Waldo Emerson, on a 
lecturing tour in this country, while on a 
brief visit, made Marian's acquaintance, and 
was observed by Mrs. Bray engaged in eager 
talk with her. Suddenly she saw him start. 
Something said by this quiet, gentle-man- 
nered girl had evidently given him a shock of 
surprise. Afterwards, in conversation with 
her friends, he spoke of her " great calm 
soul." This is no doubt an instance of the 
intense sympathetic adaptiveness of Miss 
Evans. If great, she was not by any means 
calm at this period, but inwardly deeply per- 
turbed, yet her nature, with subtlest response, 
reflected the transcendental calm of the phi- 
losopher when brought within his atmos- 
phere. 

George Dawson, the popular lecturer, and 
Mr. Flower, were more intimately associated 
with the Rosehill household. The latter, 
then living at Stratford-on-Avon, where he 
was wont to entertain a vast number of peo- 
ple, especially Americans, who made pilgrim- 
ages to Shakespeare's birthplace, is known to 
the world as the benevolent denouncer of 
"bits and bearing-reins." One day this whole 
party went to hear George Dawson, who had 
made a great sensation at Birmingham, preach 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. 75 

one of his thrilling sermons from the text 
" And the common people heard him gladly." 
George Eliot, alluding to these days as late 
as 1876, says, in a letter to Mrs. Bray : 

" George Dawson was strongly associated 
for me with Rosehill, not to speak of the 
General Baptist Chapel, where we all heard 
him preach for the first time (to us). ... I 
have a vivid recollection of an evening when 

Mr. and Mrs. F dined at your house with 

George Dawson, when he was going to lec- 
ture at the Mechanics' Institute, and you felt 
compassionately towards him, because you 
thought the rather riotous talk was a bad 
preface to his lecture. We have a Birming- 
ham friend, whose acquaintance we made 
many years ago in Weimar, and from him I 
have occasionally had some news of Mr. Daw- 
son. I feared, what you mention, that his 
life has been a little too strenuous in these 
latter years." 

On the evening alluded to in this letter 
Mr. Dawson was dining at Mrs. Bray's house 
before giving his lecture on ' John Wesley,' at 
the Mechanics' Institute. His rich sarcasm 
and love of fun had exhilarated the whole 
company, and not content with merely " riot- 
ous talk," George Dawson and Mr. Flower 
turned themselves into lions and wild cats 



76 GEORGE ELIOT. 

for the amusement of the children, sud- 
denly pouncing out from under the table- 
cloth, with hideous roarings and screechings, 
till the hubbub became appalling, joined to 
the delighted half-frightened exclamations of 
the little ones. Mr. Dawson did the lions, 
and Mr. Flower, who had made personal ac- 
quaintance with the wild cats in the back- 
woods of America, was inimitable in their 
peculiar pounce and screech. 

Thus amid studies and pleasant friendly 
intercourse did the days pass at Rosehill. 
Still Marian Evans was restless, tormented, 
frequently in tears, perhaps unconsciously 
craving a wider sphere, and more definitely 
recognized position. However strenuously 
she, at a maturer time of life, inculcated the 
necessity of resignation, she had not then 
learned to resign herself. And now a change 
was impending — a change which, fraught 
with the most important consequences, was 
destined to give a new direction to the cur- 
rent of her life. Dr. John Chapman invited 
her to assist him in the editorship of the 
Westminster Review, which passed at that 
time into his hands from John Mill. They 
had already met, when Marian was passing 
through London on her way to the Continent, 
on some matter of business or other connected 



TOUR ON THE CONTINENT. 



77 



with one of her translations. Dr. Chapman's 
proposition was accepted ; and although Mar- 
ian suffered keenly from the wrench of part- 
ing with her friends, the prompting to work 
out her powers to the full overcame the 
clinging of affection, and in the spring of 
185 1 she left Rosehill behind her and came 
to London. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE * WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 

Dr. and Mrs. Chapman were at this time in 
the habit of admitting a few select boarders, 
chiefly engaged in literary pursuits, to their 
large house in the Strand, and Miss Evans, 
at their invitation, made her home with 
them. Thus she found herself at once in the 
centre of a circle consisting of some of the 
most advanced thinkers and brilliant littera- 
teurs of the day ; a circle which, partly con- 
sisting of contributors to the Westminster 
Review, was strongly imbued with scientific 
tendencies, being particularly partial to the 
doctrines of Positive Philosophy. 

Those were in truth the palmy days of the 
Westminster Review. Herbert Spencer, G. 
H. Lewes, John Oxenford, James and Harriet 
Martineau, Charles Bray, George Combe, and 
Professor Edward Forbes were among the 
writers that made it the leading expositor of 
the philosophic and scientific thought of the 
age. It occupied a position something mid- 



THE < WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 79 

way between that of the Nineteenth Century 
and the Fortnightly. Scorning, like the latter, 
to pander to the frivolous tastes of the ma- 
jority, it appealed to the most thoughtful and 
enlightened section of the reading public, giv- 
ing especial prominence to the philosophy of 
the Comtist School ; and while not so fash- 
ionable as the Nineteenth Century, it could 
boast among its contributors names quite as 
famous, destined as they were to become the 
foremost of their time and country. With 
this group of illustrious writers Miss Evans 
was now associated, and the articles she 
contributed from the year 1852 to 1858 are 
among the most brilliant examples of periodi- 
cal literature. The second notice by her is 
a brief review of Carlyle's ' Life of Sterling ' 
for January 1852, and judging from internal 
evidence, as regards style and method of 
treatment, the one on Margaret Fuller, in the 
next number, must be by the same hand. 

To the biographer there is a curious inter- 
est in what she says in this second notice 
about this kind of literature, and it would be 
well for the world if writers were to lay it 
more generally to heart. " We have often 
wished that genius would incline itself more 
frequently to the task of the biographer, that 
when some great or good personage dies, in- 



80 GEORGE ELIOT. 

stead of the dreary three- or five-volumed com- 
pilations of letter, and diary, and detail, little 
to the purpose, which two-thirds of the public 
have not the chance, nor the other third the 
inclination, to read, we could have a real 
' life,' setting forth briefly and vividly the 
man's inward and outward struggles, aims, 
and achievements, so as to make clear the 
meaning which his experience has for his fel- 
lows. A few such lives (chiefly autobiogra- 
phies) the world possesses, and they have, 
perhaps, been more influential on the forma- 
tion of character than any other kind of read- 
ing." Then again, speaking of the ' Memoirs 
of Margaret Fuller,' she remarks, in reference 
to the same topic, " The old-world biographies 
present their subjects generally as broken 
fragments of humanity, noticeable because of 
their individual peculiarities, the new-world 
biographies present their subjects rather as 
organic portions of society." 

George Eliot's estimate of Margaret Fuller 
(for there can be little doubt that it is hers) 
possesses too rare an interest for readers not 
to be given here in her own apposite and 
pungent words : " We are at a loss whether 
to regard her as the parent or child of New 
England Transcendentalism. Perhaps neither 
the one nor the other. It was essentially an 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 8 1 

intellectual, moral, spiritual regeneration — a 
renewing of the whole man — a kindling of 
his aspirations after full development of fac- 
ulty and perfect symmetry of being. Of this 
sect Margaret Fuller was the priestess. In 
conversation she was as copious and oracular 
as Coleridge, brilliant as Sterling, pungent 
and paradoxical as Carlyle ; gifted with the 
inspired powers of a Pythoness, she saw into 
the hearts and over the heads of all who came 
near her, and, but for a sympathy as bound- 
less as her self-esteem, she would have de- 
spised the whole human race ! Her frailty 
in this respect was no secret either to herself 
or her friends. . . . We must say that from 
the time she became a mother till the final 
tragedy when she perished with her husband 
and child within sight of her native shore, she 
was an altered woman, and evinced a great- 
ness of soul and heroism of character so grand 
and subduing, that we feel disposed to extend 
to her whole career the admiration and sym- 
pathy inspired by the closing scenes. 

" While her reputation was at its height in 
the literary circles of Boston and New York, 
she was so self-conscious that her life seemed 
to be a studied act, rather than a spontaneous 
growth ; but this was the mere flutter on the 
surface ; the well was deep, and the spring 
6 



82 GEORGE ELIOT. 

genuine ; and it is creditable to her friends, 
as well as to herself, that such at all times was 
their belief." 

In this striking summing-up of a character, 
the penetrating observer of human nature — 
taking in at a glance and depicting by a few 
masterly touches all that helps to make up a 
picture of the real living being — begins to 
reveal herself. 

These essays in the Westminster Review 
are not only capital reading in themselves, 
but are, of course, doubly attractive to us 
because they let out opinions, views, judg- 
ments of things and authors, which we should 
never otherwise have known. Marian Evans 
had not yet hidden herself behind the mask 
of George Eliot, and in many of these wise 
and witty utterances of hers we are admitted 
behind the scenes of her mind, so to speak, 
and see her in her own undisguised person — 
before she had assumed the role of the nov- 
elist, showing herself to the world mainly 
through her dramatic impersonations. 

In these articles, written in the fresh ma- 
turity of her powers, we learn what George 
Eliot thought about many subjects. We learn 
who were her favorite authors in fiction ; what 
opinions she held on art and poetry ; what 
was her attitude towards the political and 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 83 

social questions of the day ; what was her con- 
ception of human life in general. There is 
much here, no doubt, that one might have 
been prepared to find, but a good deal, too, 
that comes upon one with the freshness of 
surprise. 

A special interest attaches naturally to what 
she has to say about her own branch of art — 
the novel. Though she had probably no idea 
that she was herself destined to become one 
of the great masters of fiction, she had evi- 
dently a special predilection for works of that 
kind, noticeable because hitherto her bent 
might have appeared almost exclusively to- 
wards philosophy. To the three-volume cir- 
culating-library novel of the ordinary stamp 
she is merciless in her sarcasm. One of her 
most pithy articles of this time, or rather 
later, its date being 1856, is directed against 
" Silly Novels by Lady Novelists." " These," 
she says, " consist of the frothy, the prosy, the 
pious, or the pedantic. But it is a mixture of 
all these — a composite order of feminine fa- 
tuity — that produces the largest class of such 
novels, which we shall distinguish as the mind 
and millinery species. We had imagined that 
destitute women turned novelists, as they 
turned governesses, because they had no 
other 'ladylike' means of getting their bread. 



84 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Empty writing was excused by an empty 
stomach, and twaddle was consecrated by 
tears. ... It is clear that they write in elegant 
boudoirs, with violet-colored ink and a ruby 
pen ; that they must be entirely indifferent 
to publishers' accounts ; and inexperienced 
in every form of poverty except poverty of 
brains." 

After finding fault with what she sarcas- 
tically calls the white neck-cloth species of 
novel, " a sort of medical sweetmeat for Low 
Church young ladies," she adds, " The real 
drama of Evangelicalism, and it has abun- 
dance of fine drama for any one who has 
genius enough to discern and reproduce it, 
lies among the middle and lower classes. 
Why can we not have pictures of religious 
life among the industrial classes in England, 
as interesting as Mrs. Stowe's pictures of re- 
ligious life among the negroes ? " 

She who asked that question was herself 
destined, a few years later, to answer her own 
demand in most triumphant fashion. Already 
here and there we find hints and suggestions 
of the vein that was to be so fully worked 
out in ' Scenes of Clerical Life' and 'Adam 
Bede.' Her intimate knowledge of English 
country life, and the hold it had on her imagi- 
nation, every now and then eats its way to 



THE < WESTMINSTER REVIEW: g$ 

the surface of her writings, and stands out 
amongst its surrounding matter with a cer- 
tain unmistakable native force. After cen- 
suring the lack of reality with which peasant 
life is commonly treated in art, she makes 
the following apposite remarks, suggested by 
her own experience : " The notion that peas- 
ants are joyous, that the typical moment to 
represent a man in a smock-frock is when 
he is cracking a joke and showing a row of 
sound teeth, that cottage matrons are usually 
buxom, and village children necessarily rosy 
and merry, are prejudices difficult to dislodge 
from the artistic mind which looks for its 
subjects into literature instead of life. The 
painter is still under the influence of idyllic 
literature, which has always expressed the 
imagination of the town-bred rather than the 
truth of rustic life. Idyllic ploughmen are 
jocund when they drive their team afield ; 
idyllic shepherds make bashful love under 
hawthorn bushes ; idyllic villagers dance in 
the chequered shade, and refresh themselves 
not immoderately with spicy nut-brown ale. 
But no one who has seen much of actual 
ploughmen thinks them jocund, no one who 
is well acquainted with the English peasantry 
can pronounce them merry. The slow gaze, 
in which no sense of beauty beams, no humor 



86 GEORGE ELIOT. 

twinkles ; the slow utterance, and the heavy 
slouching walk, remind one rather of that mel- 
ancholy animal the camel, than of the sturdy 
countryman, with striped stockings, red waist- 
coat, and hat aside, who represents the tradi- 
tional English peasant. Observe a company 
of haymakers. When you see them at a 
distance tossing up the forkfuls of hay in the 
golderf light, while the wagon creeps slowly 
with its increasing burden over the meadow, 
and the bright green space which tells of work 
done gets larger and larger, you pronounce the 
scene ' smiling,' and you think these compan- 
ions in labor must be as bright and cheerful 
as the picture to which they give animation. 
Approach nearer and you will find haymaking 
time is a time for joking, especially if there 
are women among the laborers ; but the coarse 
laugh that bursts out every now and then, and 
expresses the triumphant taunt, is as far as 
possible from your conception of idyllic mer- 
riment. That delicious effervescence of the 
mind which we call fun has no equivalent 
for the northern peasant, except tipsy revelry ; 
the only realm of fancy and imagination for 
the English clown exists at the bottom of the 
third quart pot. 

" The conventional countryman of the stage, 
who picks up pocket-books and never looks 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 87 

into them, and who is too simple even to know 
that honesty has its opposite, represents the 
still lingering mistake, that an unintelligible 
dialect is a guarantee for ingenuousness, and 
that slouching shoulders indicate an upright 
disposition. It is quite sure that a thresher 
is likely to be innocent of any adroit arith- 
metical cheating, but he is not the less likely 
to carry home his master's corn in his shoes 
and pocket ; a reaper is not given to writing 
begging letters, but he is quite capable of 
cajoling the dairy-maid into filling his small- 
beer bottle with ale. The selfish instincts 
are not subdued by the sight of buttercups, 
nor is integrity in the least established by 
that classic rural occupation, sheep-washing. 
To make men moral something more is requi- 
site than to turn them out to grass." 

Every one must see that this is the essay 
writing of a novelist rather than of a moral 
philosopher. The touches are put on with 
the vigor of a Velasquez. Balzac, or Flaubert, 
or that most terrible writer of the modern 
French school of fiction, the author of ' Le 
Sabot Rouge,' never described peasant life 
with more downright veracity. In the eyes 
of Miss Evans this quality of veracity is the 
most needful of all for the artist. Because 
"a picture of human life, such as a great 



88 GEORGE ELIOT. '* ' 

artist can give, surprises even the trivial and 
the selfish into that attention to what is apart 
from themselves, which may be called the 
raw material of sentiment." For "art is the 
nearest thing to life ; it is a mode of ampli- 
fying experience and extending our contact 
with our fellow-men beyond the bounds of 
our personal lot. All the more sacred is the 
task of the artist when he undertakes to paint 
the life of the People. 'Falsification here is 
far more pernicious than in the rriore artificial 
aspects of life. It is not so very serious that 
we should have false ideas about evanescent 
fashions — about the manners and conversa- 
tion of beaux and duchesses ; but it is serious 
that our sympathy with the perennial joys 
and struggles, 1 , the toil, the tragedy, and the 
humor in the life of our more heavily laden 
fellow-men should be perverted, and turned 
towards a false object instead of a true one." 

George Eliot afterwards faithfully adhered 
to the canons fixed by the critic. Whether 
this consciousness of a moral purpose was 
altogether a gain to her art may be more fitly 
discussed in connection with the analysis of 
her works of fiction. It is only needful to 
point out here how close and binding she 
wished to make the union between ethics and 
aesthetics. 



THE ' WESTMINSTER REVIEW? 



89 



Almost identical views concerning funda- 
mental laws of Art are discussed in an equally 
foerse, vigorous, and pictorial manner in an 
article called ' Realism in Art : Recent Ger- 
man Fiction.' This article, however, is not 
by George Eliot, but by George Henry Lewes. 
It was published in October, 1858, and ap- 
peared after their joint sojourn in Germany 
during the spring and summer of that year. 
I think that if one carefully compares ' Real- 
ism in Art 'with George Eliot's other articles, 
there appears something like a marriage of 
their respective styles in this paper. It seems 
probable that Lewes, with his flexible adaptive- 
ness, had come under the influence of George 
Eliot's powerful intellect, and that many of 
the views he expresses here at the same time 
render George Eliot's, as they frequently ap- 
pear, identical with hers. In the article in 
question the manner as well as the matter has 
a certain suggestion of the novelist's style. 
For example, she frequently indicates the qual- 
ity of human speech by its resemblance to 
musical sounds. She is fond of speaking of 
" the staccato tones of a voice," an adagio of 
utter indifference," and in the above-mentioned 
essay there are such expressions as the " stately 
largo " of good German prose. Again, in the 
article in question, we find the following 



90 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



satirical remarks about the slovenly prose of 
the generality of German writers : " To be 
gentlemen of somewhat slow, sluggish minds 
is perhaps their misfortune ; but to be writers 
deplorably deficient in the first principles of 
composition is assuredly their fault. Some 
men pasture on platitudes, as oxen upon 
meadow-grass ; they are at home on a dead- 
level of common-place, and do not desire to 
be irradiated by a felicity of expression." 
And in another passage to the same effect 
the author says sarcastically, " Graces are 
gifts : it can no more be required of a pro- 
fessor that he should write with felicity than 
that he should charm all beholders with his 
personal appearance; but literature requires 
that he should write intelligibly and carefully, 
as society requires that he should wash his 
face and button his waistcoat." Some of 
these strictures are very similar in spirit to 
what George Eliot had said in her review of 
Heinrich Heine, published in 1856, where, 
complaining of the general cumbrousness of 
German writers, she makes the following 
cutting remark : " A German comedy is like 
a German sentence : you see no reason in its 
structure why it should ever come to an 
end, and you accept the conclusion as an ar- 
rangement of Providence rather than of the 
author." 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 



91 



A passage in this article, which exactly 
tallies with George Eliot's general remarks 
on Art, must not be omitted here. " Art is 
a representation of Reality — a Representa- 
tion, inasmuch as it is not the thing itself, but 
only represents it, must necessarily be limited 
by the nature of its medium. . . . Realism is 
thus the basis of all Art, and its antithesis is 
not Idealism but Falsism. . . . To misrepre- 
sent the forms of ordinary life is no less an 
offence than to misrepresent the forms of 
ideal life: a pug-nosed Apollo, or Jupiter in 
a great-coat, would not be more truly shock- 
ing to an artistic mind than are those senseless 
falsifications of Nature into which incompe- 
tence is led under the pretence of ' beautify- 
ing' Nature. Either give us true peasants 
or leave them untouched ; either paint no 
drapery at all, or paint it with the utmost 
fidelity ; either keep your people silent, or 
make them speak the idiom of their class." 

Among German novelists (or rather writers 
of short stories), Paul Heyse is one of the few 
who is singled out for special praise in this 
review. And it is curious that there should 
be a tale by this eminent author called ' The 
Lonely Ones' (which also appeared in 1858), 
in which an incident occurs forcibly recalling 
the catastrophe of Grandcourt's death in ' Dan- 



9 2 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



iel Deronda:' the incident — although unskil- 
fully introduced — of a Neapolitan fisherman 
whose momentary murderous hesitation to 
rescue his drowning friend ends in lifelong 
remorse for his death. 

What makes the article in question particu- 
larly interesting are the allusions to the Ger- 
man tour, which give it an almost biographical 
interest. As has been mentioned already, Mr. 
Lewes and George Eliot were travelling in 
Germany in the spring of 1858, and in a letter 
to a friend she writes : " Then we had a deli- 
cious journey to Salzburg, and from thence 
through the Salz-Kammergut to Vienna, from 
Vienna to Prague, and from Prague to Dres- 
den, where we spent our last six weeks in 
quiet work and quiet worship of the Ma- 
donna." And in his essay on Art Mr. G. H. 
Lewes alludes to the most priceless art-treas- 
ure Dresden contains, " Raphael's marvellous 
picture, the Madonna di San Sisto," as fur- 
nishing the most perfect illustration of what 
he means by Realism and Idealism. Speak- 
ing of the child Jesus he says : " In the never- 
to-be-forgotten divine babe, we have at once 
the intensest realism of presentation with the 
highest idealism of conception : the attitude 
is at once grand, easy, and natural ; the face 
is that of a child, but the child is divine : in 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW.' 



93 



those eyes and in that brow there is an in- 
definable something which, greater than the 
expression of the angels, grander than that of 
pope or saint, is to all who see it a perfect 
truth; we feel that humanity in its highest 
conceivable form is before us, and that to 
transcend such a form would be to lose sight 
of the human nature there represented." A 
similar passage occurs in ' The Mill on the 
Floss/ where Philip Wakem says : " The great- 
est of painters only once painted a myste- 
riously divine child ; he could n't have told 
how he did it, and we can't tell why we feel 
it to be divine." 

Enough has probably been quoted from 
George Eliot's articles to give the reader 
some idea of her views on art. But they are 
so rich in happy aphorisms, originality of illus- 
tration, and raciness of epithet that they not 
only deserve attentive study because they were 
the first fruits of the mind that afterwards 
gave to the world such noble and perfect 
works as ' The Mill on the Floss ' and ' Silas 
Marner,' but are well worth attention for their 
own sake. Indeed nothing in George Eliot's 
fictions excels the style of these papers. And 
what a clear, incisive, masterly style it was ! 
Her prose in those days had a swiftness of 
movement, an epigrammatic felicity, and a 



94 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



brilliancy of antithesis which we look for in 
vain in the over-elaborate sentences and some- 
what ponderous wit of ' Theophrastus Such.' 

A very vapid paper on 'Weimar and its 
Celebrities,' April 1859, which a writer in the 
Academy attributes to the same hand, I know 
not on what authority, does not possess a 
single attribute that we are in the habit of 
associating with the writings of George Eliot. 
That an author who, by that time, had already 
produced some of her very finest work, namely, 
the ' Scenes of Clerical Life,' and ' Adam 
Bede,' should have been responsible simulta- 
neously for the trite common-places ventilated 
in this article is simply incredible. It is true 
that Homer is sometimes found nodding, and 
the right-hand of the greatest master may for- 
get its cunning, but would George Eliot in her 
most abject moments have been capable of 
penning such a sentence as this in connection 
with Goethe ? " Would not Fredricka or Lili 
have been a more genial companion than 
Christina Vulpius for that great poet of whom 
his native land is so justly proud ?" It is not 
worth while to point out other platitudes such 
as flow spontaneously from the facile pen of a 
penny-a-liner ; but the consistent misspelling 
of every name may be alluded to in passing. 
Thus we read " Lily " for " Lely," " Zetter " 



THE ' WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 95 

for " Zelter," " Quintus Filein " for " Fixlein," 
" Einsedel " for " Einsiedel," etc. etc. This in 
itself would furnish no conclusive argument, 
supposing George Eliot to have been on the 
Continent and out of the way of correcting 
proofs. But as it happened she was in Eng- 
land in April 1859, and it is, therefore, on all 
grounds impossible that this worthless pro- 
duction should be hers. 

Perhaps her two most noteworthy articles 
are the one called ' Evangelical Teaching,' 
published in 1855, and the other on ' World- 
liness and Other- Worldliness,' which appeared 
in 1857. This happy phrase, by the way, was 
first used by Coleridge, who says, " As there 
is a worldliness or the too much of this life, 
so there is another worldliness or rather other 
worldliness equally hateful and selfish with 
this worldliness." These articles are curious 
because they seem to occupy a midway posi- 
tion between George Eliot's earliest and latest 
phase of religious belief. But at this period 
she still felt the recoil from the pressure of 
a narrowing dogmatism too freshly not to 
launch back at it some of the most stinging 
shafts from the armory of her satire. Not 
Heine himself, in his trenchant sallies, sur- 
passes the irony with which some of her pages 
are bristling. To ignore this stage in George 



96 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Eliot's mental development would be to lose 
one of the connecting links in her history : 
a history by no means smooth and uneventful, 
as sometimes superficially represented, but 
full of strong contrasts, abrupt transitions, 
outward and inward changes sympathetically 
charged with all the meaning of this transi- 
tional time. Two extracts from the above- 
mentioned articles will amply testify to what 
has just been said. 

" Given a man with a moderate intellect, a 
moral standard not higher than the average, 
some rhetorical affluence and great glibness 
of speech, what is the career in which, with- 
out the aid of birth or money, he may most 
easily attain power and reputation in Eng- 
lish society ? Where is that Goshen of intel- 
lectual mediocrity in which a smattering of 
science and learning will pass for profound 
instruction, where platitudes will be accepted 
as wisdom, bigoted narrowness as holy zeal, 
unctuous egoism as God-given piety ? Let 
such a man become an evangelical preacher ; 
he will then find it possible to reconcile small 
ability with great ambition, superficial knowl- 
edge with the prestige of erudition, a middling 
morale with a high reputation for sanctity. 
Let him shun practical extremes, and be ultra 
only in what is purely theoretic. Let him be 



THE ' WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 



97 



stringent on predestination, but latitudina- 
rian on fasting ; unflinching in insisting on 
the eternity of punishment, but diffident of 
curtailing the substantial comforts of time ; 
ardent and imaginative on the pre-millennial 
advent of Christ, but cold and cautious to- 
wards every other infringement of the status 
quo. Let him fish for souls, not with the bait 
of inconvenient singularity, but with the drag- 
net of comfortable conformity. Let him be 
hard and literal in his interpretation only 
when he wants to hurl texts at the heads of 
unbelievers and adversaries, but when the let- 
ter of the Scriptures presses too closely on the 
genteel Christianity of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, let him use his spiritualizing alembic 
and disperse it into impalpable ether. Let 
him preach less of Christ than of Antichrist ; 
let him be less definite in showing what sin 
is than in showing who is the Man of Sin ; 
less expansive on the blessedness of faith 
than on the accursedness of infidelity. Above 
all, let him set up as an interpreter of proph- 
ecy, rival ' Moore's Almanack ' in the predic- 
tion of political events, tickling the interest 
of hearers who are but moderately spiritual 
by showing how the Holy Spirit has dictated 
problems and charades for their benefit ; and 
how, if they are ingenious enough to solve 
7 



98 GEORGE ELIOT. 

these, they may have their Christian graces 
nourished by learning precisely to whom they 
may point as ' the horn that had eyes,' ' the 
lying prophet,' and the ' unclean spirits.' In 
this way he will draw men to him by the 
strong cords of their passions, made reason- 
proof by being baptized with the name of 
piety. In this way he may gain a metropoli- 
tan pulpit ; the avenues to his church will be 
as crowded as the passages to the opera ; he 
has but to print his prophetic sermons, and 
bind them in lilac and gold, and they will 
adorn the drawing-room table of all evangeli- 
cal ladies, who will regard as a sort of pious 
' light reading ' the demonstration that the 
prophecy of the locusts, whose sting is in 
their tail, is fulfilled in the fact of the Turk- 
ish commander having taken a horse's tail 
for his standard, and that the French are the 
very frogs predicted in the Revelations." 

Even more scathing than this onslaught 
on a certain type of the popular evangelical 
preacher, is the paper on the poet Young, 
one of the wittiest things from George Eliot's 
pen, wherein she castigates with all her powers 
of sarcasm and ridicule that class of believers 
who cannot vilify this life sufficiently in order 
to make sure of the next, and who, in the 
care of their own souls, are careless of the 



THE 'WESTMINSTER REVIEW: 



99 



world's need. Her analysis of the 'Night 
Thoughts ' remains one of the most brilliant 
criticisms of its kind. Young's contempt for 
this earth, of all of us, and his exaltation of 
the starry worlds above, especially provoke his 
reviewer's wrath. This frame of mind was 
always repulsive to George Eliot, who could 
never sufficiently insist on the need of man's 
concentrating his love and energy on the life 
around him. She never felt much toleration 
for that form of aspiration that would soar to 
some shadowy infinite beyond the circle of 
human fellowship. One of the most epi- 
grammatic passages in this article is where 
she says of Young, " No man can be better 
fitted for an Established Church. He per- 
sonifies completely her nice balance of tem- 
poralities and spiritualities. He is equally 
impressed with the momentousness of death 
and of burial fees ; he languishes at once for 
immortal life and for ' livings ; ' he has a fer- 
vid attachment to patrons in general, but on 
the whole prefers the Almighty. He will 
teach, with something more than official con- 
viction, the nothingness of earthly things ; 
and he will feel something more than private 
disgust, if his meritorious efforts in direct- 
ing men's attention to another world are not 
rewarded by substantial preferment in this. 



..or 



IOO GEORGE ELIOT. 

His secular man believes in cambric bands and 
silk stockings as characteristic attire for ' an 
ornament of religion and virtue ; ' he hopes 
courtiers will never forget to copy Sir Robert 
Walpole ; and writes begging letters to the 
king's mistress. His spiritual man recognizes 
no motives more familiar than Golgotha and 
' the skies ; ' it walks in graveyards, or soars 
among the stars. ... If it were not for the 
prospect of immortality, he considers it would 
be wise and agreeable to be indecent, or to 
murder one's father ; and, heaven apart, it 
would be extremely irrational in any man not 
to be a knave. Man, he thinks, is a compound 
of the angel and the brute ; the brute is to be 
humbled by being reminded of its ' relation 
to the stars,' and frightened into moderation by 
the contemplation of deathbeds and skulls ; 
the angel is to be developed by vituperating 
this world and exalting the next, and by this 
double process you get the Christian — ' the 
highest style of man.' With all this our 
new-made divine is an unmistakable poet. 
To a clay compounded chiefly of the world- 
ling and the rhetorician there is added a real 
spark of Promethean fire. He will one day 
clothe his apostrophes and objurgations, his 
astronomical religion and his charnel-house 
morality, in lasting verse, which will stand, 



THE ' WESTMINSTER REVIEW: ioi 

like a Juggernaut made of gold and jewels, at 
once magnificent and repulsive : for this di- 
vine is Edward Young, the future author of 
the ' Night Thoughts.' " 

It has seemed appropriate to quote thus 
largely from these essays, because, never 
having been reprinted, they are to all intents 
and purposes inaccessible to the general reader. 
Yet they contain much that should not will- 
ingly be consigned to the dust and cobwebs, 
among which obsolete magazines usually sink 
into oblivion. They may as well be specified 
here according to their dates. ' Carlyle's Life of 
Sterling,' January 1852; 'Woman in France: 
Madame de Sable,' October 1854 ; ' Evangeli- 
cal Teaching: Dr. Cumming,' October 1855 ; 
' German Wit : Heinrich Heine,' January 
1856; 'Silly Novels by Lady Novelists,' Oc- 
tober 1856; 'The Natural History of Ger- 
man Life,' July 1856; and ' Worldliness and 
Other- Worldliness : the Poet Young,' January 

1857. 
Miss Evans's main employment on the 

Westminster Review was, however, editorial. 
She used to write a considerable portion of 
the summary of contemporary literature at 
the end of each number. But her co-opera- 
tion as sub-editor ceased about the close of 
1853, when she left Dr. Chapman's house, and 



IQ 2 GEORGE ELIOT. 

went to live in apartments in a small house 
in Cambridge Street, Hyde Park. Marian 
Evans was not entirely dependent at this time 
on the proceeds of her literary work, her 
father having settled the sum of 80/. to 100/. a 
year on her for life, the capital of which, how- 
ever, did not belong to her. She was very 
generous with her money ; and although her 
earnings at this time were not considerable, 
they were partly spent on her poor relations. 



CHAPTER VI. 

GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 

Meanwhile, these literary labors were pleas- 
antly diversified by frequent visits to her 
friends at Rosehill and elsewhere. In Octo- 
ber 1852, she stayed with Mr. and Mrs. George 
Combe at Edinburgh, and on her way back 
was the guest of Harriet Martineau, at her de- 
lightfully situated house in Ambleside. Her 
acquaintance with Mr. Herbert Spencer had 
ripened into a cordial friendship. They met 
constantly both in London and in the country, 
and their intercourse was a source of mutual 
intellectual enjoyment and profit. As must 
already have become evident, it is erroneous 
to suppose that he had any share in the for- 
mation of her mind : for as Mr. Herbert 
Spencer said, in a letter to the Daily News, 
" Our friendship did not commence until 185 1 
. . . when she was already distinguished by 
that breadth of culture, and universality of 
power, which have since made her known to 
all the world." 



104 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



In a letter to Miss Phelps, George Eliot 
touches on this rumor, after alluding in an 
unmistakable manner to another great con- 
temporary : " I never — to answer one of your 
questions quite directly — I never had any 
personal acquaintance with " (naming a prom- 
inent Positivist) ; "never saw him to my 
knowledge, except in the House of Com- 
mons ; and though I have studied his books, 
especially his 'Logic' and 'Political Econ- 
omy,' with much benefit, I have no con- 
sciousness of their having made any marked 
epoch in my life. 

" Of Mr. 's friendship I have had the 

honor and advantage for twenty years, but 
I believe that every main bias of my mind 
had been taken before I knew him. Like the 
rest of his readers, I am, of course, indebted 
to him for much enlargement and clarifying 
of thought." 

But there was another acquaintance which 
Miss Evans made during the first year of her 
residence in the Strand, destined to affect the 
whole future tenor of her life — the acquaint- 
ance of Mr. George Henry Lewes, then, like 
her, a contributor to the Westminster Review. 
George Henry Lewes was Marian's senior 
by two years, having been born in London 
on the 1 8th of April, 1817. He was educated 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 105 

at Greenwich in a school once possessing a 
high reputation for thoroughly " grounding " 
its pupils in a knowledge of the classics. 
When his education was so far finished, he 
was placed as clerk in a merchant's office. 
This kind of occupation proving very dis- 
tasteful, he turned medical student for a time. 
Very early in life he was attracted towards 
philosophy, for at the age of nineteen we find 
him attending the weekly meetings of a small 
club, in the habit of discussing metaphysical 
problems in the parlor of a tavern in Red 
Lion Square, Holborn. This club, from which 
the one in ' Daniel Deronda ' is supposed to 
have borrowed many of its features, was the 
point of junction for a most heterogeneous 
company. Here, amicably seated round the 
fire, a speculative tailor would hob and nob 
with some medical student deep in anatomy ; 
a second-hand bookseller having devoured the 
literature on his shelves, ventilated their con- 
tents for the general benefit ; and a discursive 
American mystic was listened to in turn with 
a Jewish journeyman watchmaker deeply im- 
bued with Spinozism. It is impossible not 
to connect this Jew, named Cohen, and de- 
scribed as " a man of astonishing subtilty 
and logical force, no less than of sweet per- 
sonal worth," with the Mordecai of the novel 



io 6 GEORGE ELIOT. 

just mentioned. However wide the after di- 
vergencies, here evidently lies the germ. The 
weak eyes and chest, the grave and gentle 
demeanor, the whole ideality of character, 
correspond. In some respects G. H. Lewes 
was the "Daniel Deronda" to this " Morde- 
cai." For he not only loved but venerated 
his "great calm intellect." "An immense 
pity," says Mr. Lewes, " a fervid indignation, 
filled me as I came away from his attics in one 
of the Holborn courts, where I had seen him 
in the pinching poverty of his home, with 
his German wife and two little black-eyed 
children." 

To this pure-spirited suffering watchmaker, 
Lewes owed his first acquaintance with Spi- 
noza. A certain passage, casually cited by 
Cohen, awakened an eager thirst for more in 
the youth. The desire to possess himself of 
Spinoza's works, still in the odor of pestilen- 
tial heresy, haunted him like a passion. For 
he himself, then " suffering the social per- 
secution which embitters any departure from 
accepted creeds," felt in defiant sympathy 
with all outcasts. On a dreary November 
evening, the coveted volumes were at length 
discovered on the dingy shelves of a second- 
hand bookseller. By the flaring gaslight, 
young Lewes, with a beating heart, read on 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



107 



the back of a small brown quarto those 
thrilling words, ' Spinoza : Opera Posthuma ! ' 
He was poor in those days, and the price of 
the volume was twenty shillings, but he would 
gladly have sacrificed his last sixpence to se- 
cure it. Having paid his money with fever- 
ish delight, he hurried home in triumph, and 
immediately set to work on a translation of 
the ' Ethics,' which, however, he was too im- 
patient to finish. 

This little incident is well worth dwelling 
upon not only as being the first introduction 
of a notable thinker to philosophy, but as 
showing the eager impulsive nature of the 
man. The study of Spinoza led to his pub- 
lishing an article on his life and works in the 
Westminster Review of 1843, almost the first 
account of the great Hebrew philosopher 
which appeared in this country. This article, 
afterwards incorporated in the 'Biographical 
History of Philosophy,' formed the nucleus, 
I believe, of that " admirable piece of syn- 
thetic criticism and exposition," as Mr. Fred- 
eric Harrison calls it ; a work which, accord- 
ing to him, has influenced the thought of 
the present generation almost more than any 
single book except Mr. Mill's ' Logic' 

Before the appearance of either article or 
* History of Philosophy,' Mr. Lewes went to 



I0 8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Germany, and devoted himself to the study 
of its language and literature, just brought 
into fashion by Carlyle. Returning to Eng- 
land in 1839, he became one of the most pro- 
lific journalists of the day. Witty, brilliant, 
and many-sided, he seemed pre-eminently 
fitted by nature for a press writer and littera- 
teztr. His versatility was so amazing, that a 
clever talker once said of him : " Lewes can 
do everything in the world but paint ; and he 
could do that, too, after a week's study." At 
this time, besides assisting in the editorship 
of the Classical Museum, he wrote for the 
Morning Chronicle, the Athenceum, the Edin- 
burgh, Foreign Quarterly, British Quarterly, 
Blackwood, Fraser, and the Westminster Re- 
view. After publishing ' A Biographical His- 
tory of Philosophy,' through Mr. Knight's 
'Weekly Volumes' in 1846, he wrote two 
novels, ' Ranthorpe,' and ' Rose, Blanche, and 
Violet,' which successively appeared in 1847 
and 1848. But fiction was not his forte, these 
two productions being singularly crude and 
immature as compared with his excellent phi- 
losophical work. Some jokes in the papers 
about "rant," killed what little life there 
was in ' Ranthorpe.' Nevertheless, Charlotte 
Bronte, who had some correspondence with 
Mr. Lewes about 1847, actually wrote about 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



109 



it as follows : " In reading ' Ranthorpe,' I have 
read a new book, not a reprint, not a reflec- 
tion of any other book, but a new book? 
Another great writer, Edgar Poe, admired it 
no less, for he says of the work : " I have 
lately read it with deep interest, and derived 
great consolation from it also. It relates to 
the career of a literary man, and gives a just 
view of the true aims and the true dignity 
of the literary character." 

' The Spanish Drama;' 'The Life of Maxi- 
milian Robspierre, with extracts from his 
unpublished correspondence ; ' ' The Noble 
Heart : a Tragedy ; ' all followed in close 
succession from the same inexhaustible pen. 
The last, it was said, proved also a tragedy 
to the publishers. But not content with 
writing dramas, Mr. Lewes was also ambi- 
tious of the fame of an actor, the theatre 
having always possessed a strong fascination 
for him. Already as a child he had haunted 
the theatres, and now, while delivering a 
lecture at the Philosophical Institution in 
Edinburgh, he shocked its staid habitues not 
a little by immediately afterwards appearing 
on the stage in the character of Shylock : 
so many, and seemingly incompatible, were 
Lewes's pursuits. But this extreme mobility 
of mind, this intellectual tripping from sub- 



IIO GEORGE ELIOT. 

ject to subject, retarded the growth of his 
popularity. The present mechanical subdi- 
vision of labor has most unfortunately also 
affected the judgment passed on literary and 
artistic products. Let a man once have writ- 
ten a novel typical of the manners and ways 
of a certain class of English society, or 
painted a picture with certain peculiar effects 
of sea or landscape, or composed a poem 
affecting the very trick and language of some 
bygone mediaeval singer, he will be doomed, 
to the end of his days, to do the same thing 
over and over again, ad nauseam. Nothing 
can well be more deadening to any vigorous 
mental life, and Mr. Lewes set a fine example 
of intellectual disinterestedness in sacrificing 
immediate success to the free play of a most 
variously endowed nature. 

The public too was a gainer by this. For 
the life of Goethe could not have been made 
the rich, comprehensive, many-sided biogra- 
phy it is, had Mr. Lewes himself not tried 
his hand at such a variety of subjects. This 
life, begun in 1845, tne result partly of his 
sojourn in Germany, did not appear in print 
until 1855. Ultimately destined to a great 
and lasting success, the MS. of the ' Life of 
Goethe ' was ignominiously sent from one 
publisher to another, until at last Mr. David 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. m 

Nutt, of the Strand, showed his acumen by 
giving it to the reading world. 

Some years before the publication of this 
biography Mr. Lewes had also been one of 
the founders of that able but unsuccessful 
weekly, the Leader, of which he was the liter- 
ary editor from 1849 to 1854. Many of his 
articles on Auguste Comte were originally 
written for this paper, and afterwards col- 
lected into a volume for Bohn's series. In- 
deed, after Mr. John Stuart Mill, he is to be 
regarded as the earliest exponent of Positiv- 
ism in England. He not only considered the 
' Cours de Philosophie Positive' the greatest 
work of this century, but believed it would 
" form one of the mighty landmarks in the 
history of opinion. No one before M. Comte," 
he , says, "ever dreamed of treating social 
problems otherwise than upon theological or 
metaphysical methods. He first showed how 
possible, nay, how imperative, it was that 
social questions should be treated on the 
same footing with all other scientific ques- 
tions. This being his object, he was forced 
to detect the law of mental evolution before 
he could advance. This law is the law of 
historical progression." But while Mr. Lewes, 
with his talent for succinct exposition, helped 
more than any other Englishman to dissemi- 



112 GEORGE ELIOT. 

nate the principles of Comte's philosophy in 
this country, he was at the same time vio- 
lently opposed to his ' Politique Positive] with 
its schemes of social reorganization. 

Even so slight a survey as this must show 
the astonishing discursiveness of Mr. Lewes's 
intellect. By the time he was thirty he had 
already tried his hand at criticism, fiction, 
biography, the drama, and philosophy. He 
had enlarged his experience of human nature 
by foreign travel ; he had addressed audiences 
from the lecturer's platform ; he had enjoyed 
the perilous sweets of editing a newspaper ; 
he had even, it is said, played the harlequin 
in a company of strolling actors. Indeed, Mr. 
Thackeray was once heard to say that it 
would not surprise him to meet Lewes in 
Piccadilly, riding on a white elephant ; whilst 
another wit likened him to the Wandering 
Jew, as you could never tell where he was 
going to turn up, or what he was going to do 
next. 

In this discursiveness of intellect he more 
nearly resembled the Encyclopedists of the 
eighteenth century than the men of his own 
time. Indeed his personal appearance, tem- 
perament, manners, general tone of thought, 
seemed rather to be those of a highly accom- 
plished foreigner than of an Englishman. 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



113 



He was a lightly built, fragile man, with 
bushy curly hair, and a general shagginess 
of beard and eyebrow not unsuggestive of a 
Skye terrier. For the rest, he had a promi- 
nent mouth and gray, deeply set eyes under 
an ample, finely proportioned forehead. Vol- 
atile by nature, somewhat wild and lawless 
in his talk, he in turn delighted and shocked 
his friends by the gayety, recklessness, and 
genial abandon of his manners and conver- 
sation. His companionship was singularly 
stimulating, for the commonest topic served 
him as a starting-point for the lucid develop- 
ment of some pet philosophical theory. In 
this gift of making abstruse problems intelli- 
gible, and difficult things easy, he had some 
resemblance to the late W. K. Clifford, with 
his magical faculty of illuminating the most 
abstruse subjects by his vivid directness of 
exposition. 

As Lewes's life was so soon to be closely 
united to that of Marian Evans, this cursory 
sketch of his career will not seem inappropri- 
ate. At the time they met at Dr. Chapman's 
house, Mr. Lewes, who had married early in 
life, found his conjugal relations irretrievably 
spoiled. How far the blame of this might at- 
tach to one side or to the other does not con- 
cern us here. Enough that in the intercourse 
8 



II 4 GEORGE ELIOT. 

with a woman of such astonishing intellect, 
varied acquirements, and rare sympathy, Mr. 
Lewes discovered a community of ideas and 
a moral support that had been sadly lacking 
to his existence hitherto. 

In many ways these two natures, so oppo- 
site in character, disposition, and tone of mind, 
who, from such different starting-points, had 
reached the same standpoint, seemed to need 
each other for the final fruition and utmost 
development of what was best in each. A 
crisis was now impending in Marian's life. 
She was called upon to make her private 
judgment a law unto herself, and to shape 
her actions, not according to the recognized 
moral standard of her country, but in harmony 
with her own convictions of right and wrong. 
From a girl, it appears, she had held inde- 
pendent views about marriage, strongly ad- 
vocating the German divorce laws. On the 
appearance of ' Jane Eyre,' when every one 
was talking of this book and praising the 
exemplary conduct of Jane in her famous in- 
terview with Rochester, Marian Evans, then 
only four-and-twenty, remarked to a friend 
that in his position she considered him justi- 
fied in contracting a fresh marriage. And in 
an article on Madame de Sable, written as 
early as 1854, there is this significant passage 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. H5 

in reference to the " laxity of opinion and 
practice with regard to the marriage-tie in 
France." " Heaven forbid," she writes, " that 
we should enter on a defence of French mor- 
als, most of all in relation to marriage ! But 
it is undeniable that unions formed in the 
maturity of thought and feeling, and grounded 
only on inherent fitness and mutual attrac- 
tion, tended to bring women into more intel- 
ligent sympathy with man, and to heighten 
and complicate their share in the political 
drama. The quiescence and security of the 
conjugal relation are, doubtless, favorable to 
the manifestation of the highest qualities by 
persons who have already attained a high 
standard of culture, but rarely foster a passion 
sufficient to rouse all the faculties to aid in 
winning or retaining its beloved object — to 
convert indolence into activity, indifference 
into ardent partisanship, dulness into per- 
spicuity." 

Such a union, formed in the full maturity 
of thought and feeling, was now contracted 
by Marian Evans and George Henry Lewes. 
Legal union, however, there could be none, 
for though virtually separated from his wife, 
Mr. Lewes could not get a divorce. Too little 
has as yet transpired concerning this important 
step to indicate more than the bare outline 



Il6 GEORGE ELIOT. 

of events. Enough that Mr. Lewes appears 
to have written a letter in which, after a full 
explanation of his circumstances, he used all 
his powers of persuasion to win Miss Evans 
for his life-long companion ; that she con- 
sented, after having satisfied her conscience 
that in reality she was not injuring the claims 
of others ; and that henceforth she bore Mr. 
Lewes's name, and became his wife in every 
sense but the legal one. 

This proceeding caused the utmost con- 
sternation amongst her acquaintances, espe- 
cially amongst her friends at Rosehill. The 
former intimate and affectionate intercourse 
with Mrs. Bray and her sister was only grad- 
ually restored, and only after they had come 
to realize how perfectly her own conscience 
had been consulted and satisfied in the matter. 
Miss Hennell, who had already entered on the 
scheme of religious doctrine which ever since 
she has been setting forth in her printed 
works, "swerved nothing from her own prin- 
ciples that the maintenance of a conventional 
form of marriage (remoulded to the demands 
of the present age) is essentially attached 
to all religion, and pre-eminently so to the 
religion of the future." 

In thus defying public opinion, and forming 
a connection in opposition to the laws of so- 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



117 



ciety, George Eliot must have undergone some 
trials and sufferings peculiarly painful to one 
so shrinkingly sensitive as herself. Conscious 
of no wrong-doing, enjoying the rare happi- 
ness of completest intellectual fellowship in 
the man she loved, the step she had taken 
made a gap between her kindred and herself 
which could not but gall her clinging, womanly 
nature. To some of her early companions, 
indeed, who had always felt a certain awe at 
the imposing gravity of her manners, this 
dereliction from what appeared to them the 
path of duty was almost as startling and un- 
expected as if they had seen the heavens fall- 
ing down. 

How far the individual can ever be justified 
in following the dictates of his private judg- 
ment, in opposition to the laws and prevalent 
opinions of his time and country, must remain 
a question no less difficult than delicate of 
decision. It is precisely the point where the 
highest natures and the lowest sometimes 
apparently meet; since to act in opposition 
to custom may be due to the loftiest motives 
— may be the spiritual exaltation of the re- 
former, braving social ostracism for the sake 
of an idea, or may spring, on the other hand, 
from purely rebellious promptings of an anti- 
social egoism, which recognizes no law higher 



n8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

than that of personal gratification. At the 
same time, it seems, that no progress could 
well be made in the evolution of society with- 
out these departures on the part of individuals 
from the well-beaten tracks, for even the fail- 
ures help eventually towards a fuller recog- 
nition of what is beneficial and possible of 
attainment. Mary Wollstonecraft, Shelley, 
George Sand, the New England Transcen- 
dentalists, with their communistic experiment 
at Brook Farm, all more or less strove to be 
path-finders to a better and happier state of 
society. George Eliot, however, hardly be- 
longed to this order of mind. Circumstances 
prompted her to disregard one of the most 
binding laws of society, yet, while she con- 
sidered herself justified in doing so, her sym- 
pathies were, on the whole, more enlisted in 
the state of things as they are than as they 
might be. It is certainly curious that the 
woman, who in her own life had followed such 
an independent course, severing herself in 
many ways from her past with all its tradi- 
tional sanctities, should yet so often inculcate 
the very opposite teaching in her works — 
should inculcate an almost slavish adherence 
to whatever surroundings, beliefs, and family 
ties a human being may be born to. 

I need only add here that Mr. Lewes and 



GEORGE HENRY LEWES. 



II 9 



Marian went to Germany soon after forming 
this union, which, only ending by death, gave 
to each what had hitherto been lacking in 
their lives. Many marriages solemnized in a 
church, and ushered in with all the ostenta- 
tion of trousseau, bridesmaids, and wedding 
breakfast, are indeed less essentially such in 
all the deeper human aspects which this rela- 
tion implies, than the one contracted in this 
informal manner. Indeed, to those who saw 
them together, it seemed as if they could 
never be apart. Yet, while so entirely at one, 
each respected the other's individuality, his 
own, at the same time, gaining in strength by 
the contact. Mr. Lewes's mercurial disposi- 
tion now assumed a stability greatly enhanc- 
ing his brilliant talents, and for the first time 
facilitating that concentration of intellect so 
necessary for the production of really lasting 
philosophic work. On the other hand, George 
Eliot's still dormant faculties were roused and 
stimulated to the utmost by the man to whom 
this union with her formed the most mem- 
orable year of his life. By his enthusiastic 
belief in her he gave her the only thing she 
wanted — a thorough belief in herself. In- 
deed, he was more than a husband : he was, 
as an intimate friend once pithily remarked, 
a very mother to her. Tenderly watching 



12Q GEORGE ELIOT. 

over her delicate health, cheering the grave 
tenor of her thoughts by his inexhaustible 
buoyancy, jealously shielding her from every 
adverse breath of criticism, Mr. Lewes in a 
manner created the spiritual atmosphere in 
which George Eliot could best put forth all 
the flowers and fruits of her genius. 

In joining her life with that of Mr. Lewes, 
the care of his three children devolved upon 
George Eliot, who henceforth showed them 
the undeviating love and tenderness of a 
mother. One of the sons had gone out to 
Natal as a young man, and contracted a fatal 
disease, which, complicated with some acci- 
dent, resulted in an untimely death. He 
returned home a hopeless invalid, and his 
tedious illness was cheered by the affection- 
ate tendance of her who had for so many 
years acted a mother's part towards him. 



CHAPTER VII. 

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 

As has already been mentioned, Mr. Lewes 
and Marian went to Germany in 1854, divid- 
ing the year between Berlin, Munich, and 
Weimar. In the latter pleasant little Saxon 
city, on which the mighty influence of Goethe 
seemed still visibly resting, as the reflection 
of the sun lingers in the sky long after the 
sun himself has set, Lewes partly re-wrote 
his ( Life of Goethe.' Here must have been 
spent many delightful days, wandering in 
Goethe's track, exploring the beautiful neigh- 
borhood, and enjoying some of the most cul- 
tivated society in Germany. Several articles 
on German life and literature, afterwards 
published in the Westminster Review, were 
probably written at this time. The trans- 
lation of Spinoza's ' Ethics ' by George Eliot 
was also executed in the same year. Mr. 
Lewes, alluding to it in ' Goethe's Life,' says, 
in a foot-note, " It may interest some readers 
to learn that Spinoza will ere long appear in 



122 GEORGE ELIOT. 

English, edited by the writer of these lines." 
This was a delusive promise, since the trans- 
lation has not yet made its appearance. But 
surely its publication would now be warmly 
welcomed. 

The time, however, was approaching when 
George Eliot was at last to discover where 
her real mastery lay. And this is the way, 
as the story goes, that she discovered it. 
They had returned from the Continent and 
were settled again in London, [both actively 
engaged in literature. But literature, unless 
in certain cases of triumphant popularity, is 
perhaps the worst paid of all work. Mr. 
Lewes and George Eliot were not too well 
off. The former, infinite in resources, having 
himself tried every form of literature in turn, 
could not fail to notice the matchless power 
of observation, and the memory matching it 
in power, of the future novelist. One day 
an idea struck him. " My dear," he said, 
" I think you could write a capital story." 
Shortly afterwards there was some dinner 
engagement, but as he was preparing to go 
out, she said, " I won't go out this evening, 
and when you come in don't disturb me. I 
shall be very busy." And this was how the 
'Scenes of Clerical Life' came first to be 
written ! On being shown a portion of the 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



123 



first tale, 'Amos Barton,' Mr. Lewes was 
fairly amazed. 

Stories are usually fabricated after the 
event ; but, if not true, they often truly paint 
a situation. And the general testimony of 
friends seems to agree that it was Mr. Lewes 
who first incited the gifted woman, of whose 
great powers he was best able to form a judg- 
ment, to express herself in that species of 
literature which would afford the fullest scope 
to the creative and dramatic faculties which 
she so eminently possessed. Here, however, 
his influence ended. He helped to reveal 
George Eliot to herself, and after that there 
was little left for him to do. But this gift of 
stimulating another by sympathetic insight 
and critical appreciation is itself of priceless 
value. When Schiller died, Goethe said, 
" The half of my existence is gone from me." 
A terrible word to utter for one so great. 
But never again, he knew, would he meet 
with the same complete comprehension, and, 
lacking that, his genius itself seemed less his 
own than before. 

There is an impression abroad that Mr. 
Lewes, if anything, did some injury to George 
Eliot from a literary point of view ; that the 
nature of his pursuits led her to adopt too 
technical and pedantic a phraseology in her 



124 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



novels. But this idea is unjust to both. In 
comparing her earliest with her latest style, 
it is clear that from the first she was apt 
to cull her illustrations from the physical 
sciences, thereby showing how much these 
studies had become part of herself. Indeed, 
she was far more liable to introduce these 
scientific modes of expression than Mr. Lewes, 
as may be easily seen by comparing his ' Life 
of Goethe,' partly re-written in 1854, with 
some of her essays of the same date. As to 
her matter, it is curious how much of it was 
drawn from the earliest sources of memory — 
from that life of her childhood to which she 
may sometimes have turned yearningly as 
to a long-lost Paradise. Most of her works 
might, indeed, not inaptly be called ' Looking 
Backward.' They are a half -pathetic, half- 
humorous, but entirely tender revivification 
of the "days that are no more." No one, 
however intimate, could really intermeddle 
with the workings of a genius drawing its 
happiest inspiration from the earliest experi- 
ences of its own individual past. 

Nothing is more characteristic of this obvi- 
ous tendency than the first of the ' Scenes of 
Clerical Life,' 'The Sad Fortunes of the Rev. 
Amos Barton.' At Chilvers Coton the curi- 
ous in such matters may still see the identical 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



125 



church where the incumbent of Shepperton 
used to preach sermons shrewdly compounded, 
of High Church doctrines and Low Church 
evangelicalism, not forgetting to note " its 
little flight of steps with their wooden rail 
running up the outer wall, and leading to the 
school-children's gallery." There they may 
still see the little churchyard, though they 
may look in vain for the " slim black figure " 
of the Rev. Amos, " as it flits past the pale 
gravestones," in "the silver light that falls 
aslant on church and tomb." And among 
the tombs there is one, a handsome substan- 
tial monument, overshadowed by a yew-tree, 
on which there is this inscription : 

HERE LIES, 

WAITING THE SUMMONS OF THE ARCHANGEL'S TRUMPET, 

ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF 

THE BELOVED WIFE OF THE 

REV. JOHN GWYTHER, B.A., 

CURATE OF THIS PARISH, 

NOV. 4TH, 1836, 

AGED THIRTY-FOUR YEARS, 

LEAVING A HUSBAND AND SEVEN CHILDREN. 

This Emma Gwyther is none other than 
the beautiful Milly, the wife of Amos, so 
touchingly described by George Eliot, whose 
mother, Mrs. Evans, was her intimate friend. 
George Eliot would be in her teens when she 



126 GEORGE ELIOT. 

heard the story of this sweet woman : heard 
the circumstantial details of her struggles to 
make the two ends of a ridiculously small 
income meet the yearly expenses : heard her 
mother, no doubt (in the words of Mrs. 
Hackit) blame her weak forbearance in tol- 
erating the presence in her house of the lux- 
urious and exacting countess, who, having 
ingratiated herself with the gullible Amos 
by her talk of the " livings " she would get 
him, gave much scandal in the neighborhood: 
heard of the pathetic death-bed, when, worn 
by care and toil, the gentle life ebbed quietly 
away, leaving a life-long void in her hus- 
band's heart and home. All this was the 
talk of the neighborhood when George Eliot 
was a girl ; and her extraordinary memory 
allowed nothing to escape. 

On the completion of ' Amos Barton,' Mr. 
Lewes, who, as already mentioned, was a 
contributor to ' Maga,' sent the MS. to the 
editor, the late Mr. John Blackwood, as the 
work of an anonymous friend. This was in 
the autumn of 1856. The other scenes of 
' Clerical Life ' were then unwritten, but the 
editor was informed that the story submitted 
to his approval formed one of a series. 
Though his judgment was favorable, he 
begged to see some of the other tales before 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



127 



accepting this, freely making some criticisms 
on the plot and studies of character in 'Amos 
Barton.' This, however, disheartened the au- 
thor, whose peculiar diffidence had only been 
overcome by Mr. Lewes's hearty commenda- 
tion. When the editor had been made aware 
of the injurious effect of his objections, he 
hastened to efface it by accepting the tale 
without . further delay. It appeared soon 
afterwards in Blackwood's Magazine for Jan- 
uary 1857, where it occupied the first place. 
This story, by some considered as fine as 
anything the novelist ever wrote, came to an 
end in the next number. ' Mr. GilfiTs Love- 
Story,' and 'Janet's Repentance 1 were written 
in quick succession, and the series was com- 
pleted in November of the same year. 

Although there was nothing sufficiently 
sensational in these ' Scenes ' to arrest the 
attention of that great public which must be 
roused by something new and startling, lit- 
erary judges were not slow to discern the 
powerful realism with which the author had 
drawn these uncompromising studies from 
life. After the appearance of 'Amos Barton,' 
Mr. Blackwood wrote to the anonymous au- 
thor : " It is a long time since I have read 
anything so fresh, so humorous, and so touch- 
ing. The style is capital, conveying so much 



128 GEORGE ELIOT. 

in so few words." Soon afterwards he began 
another letter : " My dear Amos, I forget 
whether I told you or Lewes that I had 
shown part of the MS. to Thackeray. He 
was staying with me, and having been out at 
dinner, came in about eleven o'clock, when I 
had just finished reading it. I said to him, 
' Do you know that I think I have lighted 
upon a new author, who is uncommonly like 
a first-class passenger.' I showed him a 
page or two, I think the passage where the 
curate returns home and Milly is first intro- 
duced. He would not pronounce whether it 
came up to my ideas, but remarked afterwards 
that he would have liked to have read more, 
which I thought a good sign." 

Dickens, after the publication of the 
' Scenes,' sent a letter to the unknown writer 
through the editor, warmly expressing the 
admiration he felt for .them. But he was 
strongly of opinion from the first that they 
must have been written by a woman. In the 
meanwhile the tales were reprinted in a col- 
lected form, and they were so successful that 
the editor, writing to Mr. Lewes at the end 
of January 1858, when the book had hardly 
been out a month, was able to say, " George 
Eliot has fairly achieved a literary reputation 
among judges, and the public must follow, 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



129 



although it may take time." And in a letter 
to George Eliot herself, he wrote in Febru- 
ary : " You will recollect, when we proposed 
to reprint, my impression was that the series 
had not lasted long enough in the magazine 
to give you a hold on the general public, 
although long enough to make your literary 
reputation. Unless in exceptional cases, a 
very long time often elapses between the two 
stages of reputation — the literary and the 
public. Your progress will be sure, if not so 
quick as we could wish." 

While the sketches were being re-issued in 
book form, Messrs. Blackwood informed its 
author that they saw good cause for making 
a large increase in the forthcoming reprint, 
and their anticipations were fully justified by 
its success. All sorts of rumors were abroad 
as to the real author of these clerical tales. 
Misled by a hint, calculated to throw him off 
the real scent, Mr. Blackwood was at first un- 
der the impression that they were the work 
of a clergyman, and this may perhaps have been 
the origin of a belief which lingered till quite 
recently, that George Eliot was the daughter 
of a clergyman, a statement made by several 
of the leading daily papers after her death. 
Abandoning the idea of the clergyman, Mr. 
Blackwood next fixed upon a very different 



13° 



GEORGE ELIOT, 



sort of person, to wit, Professor Owen, whom 
he suspected owing to the similarity of hand- 
writing and the scientific knowledge so ex- 
ceptional in a novelist. No less funny was 
the supposition held by others of Lord Lytton 
— who more than once hoaxed the public 
under a new literary disguise — having at last 
surpassed himself in the sterling excellence 
of these tales. Now that Bulwer has gone 
the way of all fashions, it seems incredible 
that the most obtuse and slow-witted of crit- 
ics should have mistaken for a moment his 
high-flown sentimental style for the new au- 
thor's terse, vigorous, and simple prose. 

It was impossible, however, for an author 
to remain a mere nameless abstraction. An 
appellation of some kind became an imper- 
ative necessity, and, during the passage of 
' Mr. Gilfil's Love-Story ' through the press, 
the pseudonym of " George Eliot " — a name 
destined to become so justly renowned — was 
finally assumed. 

The ' Scenes of Clerical Life ' were to 
George Eliot's future works - what a bold, 
spirited sketch is to a carefully elaborated 
picture. All the qualities that distinguished 
her genius may be discovered in this, her first 
essay in fiction. With all Miss Austen's 
matchless faculty for painting commonplace 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 131 

characters, George Eliot has that other nobler 
faculty of showing what tragedy, pathos, and 
humor may be lying in the experience of a 
human soul " that looks out through dull gray 
eyes, and that speaks in a voice of quite ordi- 
nary tones." While depicting some common- 
place detail of every-day life, she has the 
power to make her reader realize its close 
relation to the universal life. She never gives 
you the mere dry bones and fragments of 
existence as represented in some particular 
section of society, but always manages to keep 
before the mind the invisible links connecting 
it with the world at large. In ' Mr. Gilfil's 
Love-Story ' there is a passage as beautiful as 
any in her works, and fully illustrating this 
attitude of her mind. It is where Tina, find- 
ing herself deceived in Captain Wybrow, gives 
way to her passionate grief in solitude. 

" While this poor little heart was being 
bruised with a weight too heavy for it, Nature 
was holding on her calm inexorable way, in 
unmoved and terrible beauty. The stars were 
rushing in their eternal courses ; the tides 
swelled to the level of the last expectant 
weed ; the sun was making brilliant day to 
busy nations on the other side of the swift 
earth. The stream of human thought and 
deed was hurrying and broadening onward. 



I 3 2 GEORGE ELIOT. 

The astronomer was at his telescope ; the 
great ships were laboring over the waves ; the 
toiling eagerness of commerce, the fierce spirit 
of revolution, were only ebbing in brief rest ; 
and sleepless statesmen were dreading the 
possible crisis of the morrow. What were 
our little Tina and her trouble in this mighty- 
torrent, rushing from one awful unknown to 
another? Lighter than the smallest centre 
of quivering life in the water-drop, hidden 
and uncared for as the pulse of anguish in the 
breast of the tiniest bird that has fluttered 
down to its nest with the long-sought food, 
and has found the. nest torn and empty." 

There is rather more incident in this story 
of Mr. Gilfil than in either of the two other 
' Scenes of Clerical Life.' In ' Amos Barton ' 
the narrative is of the simplest, as has already 
been indicated ; and the elements from which 
'Janet's Repentance' is composed are as free 
from any complex entanglement of plot. The 
author usually describes the most ordinary 
circumstances of English life, but the power- 
ful rendering of the human emotions which 
spring from them takes a most vivid hold 
of the imagination : ' Mr. Gilfil's Love-Story/ 
however, seems a little Italian romance dropped 
on English soil. 

It is, in brief, the narration of how Sir Chris- 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



133 



topher Cheverel and his wife, during their resi- 
dence at Milan, took pity on a little orphan girl, 
" whose large dark eyes shone from out her 
queer little face like the precious stones in a 
grotesque image carved in old ivory." Cat- 
erina, or Tina as she is called, taken back 
to Cheverel Manor, grew up under the care 
of the Baronet's wife, to whom she became 
endeared by her exceptional musical talent. 
Sir Christopher had no children, but had 
chosen his nephew, Captain Wybrow, for his 
heir, and planned a marriage between him and 
Miss Assher, the handsome and accomplished 
owner of a pretty estate. Another marriage, 
on which he has equally set his heart, is that 
between his ward Maynard Gilfil, an open- 
eyed manly young fellow destined for the 
Church, and the mellow-voiced, large-eyed 
Tina, for whom he has long nursed an unde- 
clared passion. But alas, for the futility of 
human plans ! Tina, to whom the elegant 
Anthony Wybrow has been secretly profess- 
ing love, suffers tortures of jealousy when he 
and Miss Assher, to whom he has dutifully 
become engaged, come on a visit to Cheverel 
Manor. The treacherous Captain, to lull the 
suspicions of his betrothed, insinuates that 
poor Miss Sarti entertains a hopeless passion 
for him, which puts the poor girl, who gets 



134 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



an inkling of this double-dealing, into a frenzy 
of indignation. In this state she possesses 
herself of a dagger, and as she is going to 
meet the Captain by appointment, dreams of 
plunging the weapon in the traitor's heart. 
But on reaching the appointed spot, she be- 
holds the false lover stretched motionless on 
the ground already — having suddenly died of 
heart disease. Tina's anguish is indescrib- 
able : she gives the alarm to the household, 
but stung by remorse for a contemplated re- 
venge of which her tender-hearted nature was 
utterly incapable, she flies unperceived from 
the premises at night. Being searched for in 
vain, she is suspected of having committed 
suicide. After some days of almost unbear- 
able suspense, news is brought that Tina is 
lying ill at the cottage of a former maid in the 
household. With reviving hopes her anxious 
lover rides to the farm, sees the half-stunned, 
unhappy girl, and, after a while, manages to 
remove her to his sister's house. She gradually 
recovers under Mrs. Heron's gentle tendance, 
and one day a child's accidental striking of a 
deep bass note on the harpsichord suddenly 
revives her old passionate delight in music. 
And ' the soul that was born anew to music 
was born anew to love.' After a while Tina 
agrees to become Mr. Gilfil's wife, who has 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 135 

been given the living at Shepperton, where 
a happy future seems in store for the Vicar. 
" But the delicate plant had been too deeply 
bruised, and in the struggle to put forth a 
blossom it died. 

" Tina died, and Maynard Gilfil's love went 
with her into deep silence forevermore." 

Besides this sympathy with the homeliest 
characters and situations, or, more properly 
speaking, springing from it, there already 
runs through these three tales the delicious 
vein of humor irradiating George Eliot's 
otherwise sombre pictures of life with sud- 
den flashes of mirth as of sunlight trembling 
above dark waters. In this depth and rich- 
ness of humor George Eliot not only takes 
precedence of all other distinguished women, 
but she stands among them without a rival. 
Hers is that thoughtful outlook on life, that 
infinite depth of observation which, taking 
note of the inconsistencies and the blunders, 
the self-delusions and " fantastic pranks " of 
her fellow-men, finds the source of laughter 
very near to tears ; never going out of her 
way for the eccentric and peculiar in human 
nature, seeing that human nature itself ap- 
pears to her as the epitome of all incongruity. 
It is this breadth of conception and unerring- 
ness of vision piercing through the external 



1 36 GEORGE ELIOT. 

and accidental to the core of man's mixed 
nature which give certain of her creations 
something of the life-like complexity of 
Shakespeare's. 

Her power of rendering the idiom and 
manners of peasants, artisans, and paupers, 
of calling up before us the very gestures 
and phrases of parsons, country practition- 
ers, and other varieties of inhabitants of our 
provincial towns and rural districts, already 
manifests itself fully in these clerical stories. 
Here we find such types as Mr. Dempster, 
the unscrupulous, brutal, drunken lawyer ; 
Mr. Pilgrim, the tall, heavy, rough-mannered, 
and spluttering doctor, profusely addicted to 
bleeding and blistering his patients ; Mr. Gilfil, 
the eccentric vicar, with a tender love-story 
hidden beneath his rugged exterior ; the large- 
hearted, unfortunate Janet, rescued from moral 
ruin by Mr. Tryan, the ascetic evangelical cler- 
gyman, whose character, the author remarks, 
might have been found sadly wanting in per- 
fection by feeble and fastidious minds, but, 
as she adds, " The blessed work of helping 
the world forward happily does not wait to be 
done by perfect men ; and I should imagine 
that neither Luther nor John Bunyan, for 
example, would have satisfied the modern de- 
mand for an ideal hero, who believes nothing 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 137 

but what is true, feels nothing but what is 
exalted, and does nothing but what is grace- 
ful. The real heroes of God's making are 
quite different : they have their natural heri- 
tage of love and conscience, which they drew 
in with their mother's milk ; they know one or 
two of those deep spiritual truths which are 
only to be won by long wrestling with their 
own sins and their own sorrows ; they have 
earned faith and strength so far as they have 
done genuine work, but the rest is dry, bar- 
ren theory, blank prejudice, vague hearsay." 

George Eliot's early acquaintance with 
many types of the clerical character, and her 
sympathy with the religious life in all its 
manifestations, was never more fully shown 
than in these ' Scenes.' In ' Janet's Repent- 
ance ' we already discover one of George 
Eliot's favorite psychological studies — the 
awakening of a morally mixed nature to a 
new, a spiritual life. This work of regenera- 
tion Mr. Tryan performs for Janet, Felix Holt 
for Esther, and Daniel Deronda for Gwen- 
dolen. Her protest against the application 
of too lofty a moral standard in judging of 
our fellow-creatures, her championship of the 
" mongrel, ungainly dogs who are nobody's 
pets," is another of the prominent qualities 
of her genius fully expressed in this firstling 



I3 8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

work, being, indeed, at the root of her humor- 
ous conception of life. One of the finest bits 
of humor in the present volume is the scene 
in ' Amos Barton,' which occurs at the work- 
house, euphemistically called the " College." 
Mr. Barton, having just finished his address 
to the paupers, is thus accosted by Mr. Spratt, 
" a small-featured, small-statured man, with a 
remarkable power of language, mitigated by 
hesitation, who piqued himself on expressing 
unexceptionable sentiments in unexception- 
able language on all occasions. 

" ' Mr. Barton, sir — aw — aw — excuse my 
trespassing on your time — aw — to beg that 
you will administer a rebuke to this boy ; he 
is — aw — aw — most inveterate in ill-behav- 
ior during service-time.' 

" The inveterate culprit was a boy of seven, 
vainly contending against ' candles ' at his 
nose by feeble sniffing. But no sooner had 
Mr. Spratt uttered his impeachment than 
Mrs. Fodge rushed forward, and placed her- 
self between Mr. Barton and the accused. 

" ' That's my child, Muster Barton,' she ex- 
claimed, further manifesting her maternal in- 
stincts by applying her apron to her offspring's 
nose. ' He's aly's a-findin' faut wi' him, and 
a-poundin' him for nothin'. Let him goo an' 
eat his roost goose as is a-smellin' up in our 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 



139 



noses while we're a-swallering them greasy- 
broth, an' let my boy alooan.' 

" Mr. Spratt's small eyes flashed, and he 
was in danger of uttering sentiments not un- 
exceptionable before the clergyman ; but Mr. 
Barton, foreseeing that a prolongation of this 
episode would not be to edification, said ' Si- 
lence ! ' in his severest tones. 

" ' Let me hear no abuse. Your boy is not 
likely to behave well, if you set him the ex- 
ample of being saucy.' Then stooping down 
to Master Fodge, and taking him by the 
shoulder, ' Do you like being beaten ? ' 

"'No — a.' 

" ' Then what a silly boy you are to be 
naughty. If you were not naughty, you 
would n't be beaten. But if you are naughty, 
God will be angry, as well as Mr. Spratt ; and 
God can burn you forever. That will be 
worse than being beaten.' 

" Master Fodge's countenance was neither 
affirmative nor negative of this proposition. 

" ' But,' continued Mr. Barton, ' if you will 
be a good boy, God will love you, and you will 
grow up to be a good man. Now, let me hear 
next Thursday that you have been a good boy.' 

" Master Fodge had no distinct visidn of 
the benefit that would accrue to him from 
this change of courses." 



CHAPTER VIII. 



ADAM BEDE. 



Rarely has a novelist come to his task with 
such a far-reaching culture, such an intel- 
lectual grasp, as George Eliot. We have seen 
her girlhood occupied with an extraordinary 
variety of studies ; we have seen her plunged 
in abstruse metaphysical speculations ; we 
have seen her translating some of the most 
laborious philosophical investigations of Ger- 
man thinkers ; we have seen her again trans- 
lating from the Latin the ' Ethics' of Spinoza ; 
and, finally, we have seen her attracting, and 
attracted by, some of the leaders in science, 
philosophy, and literature. 

Compared with such qualifications who 
among novelists could compete ? What could 
a Dickens, or a Thackeray himself, throw into 
the opposing scale ? Lewes, indeed, was a 
match for her in variety of attainments, but 
he had made several attempts at fiction, and 
the attempts had proved failures. When at 
last, in the maturity of her powers, George 



ADAM BEDE. 



141 



Eliot produced 'Adam Bede,' she produced a 
novel in which the amplest results of knowl- 
edge and meditation were so happily blended 
with instinctive insight into life and charac- 
ter, and the rarest dramatic imagination, as 
to stamp it immediately as one of the great 
triumphs and masterpieces in the world of 
fiction. 

It is worth noticing that in 'Adam Bede' 
George Eliot fulfils to the utmost the demands 
which she had been theoretically advocating 
in her essays. In some of these she had not 
only eloquently enforced the importance of a 
truthful adherence to nature, but had pointed 
out how the artist is thus in the very van- 
guard of social and political reforms ; as in 
familiarizing the imagination with the real 
condition of the people, he did much towards 
creating that sympathy with their wants, their 
trials, and their sufferings, which would event- 
ually effect external changes in harmony with 
this better understanding. Such had been 
her teaching. And in Dickens she had rec- 
ognized the one great novelist who, in certain 
respects, had painted the lower orders with 
unerring truthfulness. His " Oliver Twists," 
his " Nancys," his " Joes," were terrible and 
pathetic pictures of the forlorn outcasts haunt- 
ing our London streets. And if, as George 



142 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



Eliot says, Dickens had been able to " give 
us their psychological' character, their concep- 
tion of life and their emotions, with the same 
truth as their idiom and manners, his books 
would be the greatest contribution Art has 
ever made to the awakening of social sym- 
pathies." Now George Eliot absolutely does 
what Dickens aimed at doing. She not merely 
seizes the outward and accidental traits of her 
characters : she pierces with unerring vision 
to the very core of their nature, and enables 
us to realize the peculiarly subtle relations 
between character and circumstance. Her 
primary object is to excite our sympathy 
with the most ordinary aspects of human life, 
with the people that one may meet any day in 
the fields, the workshops, and the homes of 
England. Her most vivid creations are not 
exceptional beings, not men or women pre- 
eminently conspicuous for sublime heroism of 
character or magnificent mental endowments, 
but work-a-day folk, 

" Not too fine or good 
For human nature's daily food." 

To this conscientious fidelity of observa- 
tion and anxious endeavor to report the 
truth and nothing but the truth, as of a 
witness in a court of justice, are owing that 
life-like vividness with which the scenery 



ADAM BEDE. 



143 



and people in 'Adam Bede' seem projected 
on the reader's imagination. The story, in- 
deed, is so intensely realistic as to have given 
rise to the idea that it is entirely founded on 
fact. That there is such a substratum is 
hardly a matter of doubt, and there have been 
various publications all tending to prove that 
the chief characters in 'Adam Bede ' were 
not only very faithful copies of living people, 
but of people closely connected with its author. 
To some extent this is incontrovertible. But, 
on the other hand, there is a likelihood of the 
fictitious events having in their turn been 
grafted on to actual personages and occur- 
rences, till the whole has become so fused 
together as to lead some persons to the firm 
conviction that Dinah Morris is absolutely 
identical with Mrs. Elizabeth Evans, the Der- 
byshire Methodist. Such a supposition would 
help to reconcile the conflicting statements 
respectively made by the great novelist and 
the writers of two curious little books entitled 
' Seth Bede, the Methody, his Life and La- 
bors,' chiefly written by himself, and ' George 
Eliot in Derbyshire,' by Guy Roslyn. 

From these brochures one gathers that 
Hayslope, where the rustic drama of ' Adam 
Bede ' unfolds itself, is the village of Ellaston, 
not far from Ashbourne in Staffordshire. 



144 GEORGE ELIOT. 

This village is so little altered that the trav- 
eller may still see the sign-board of the '*' Don- 
nithorne Arms," and the red brick hall, only 
with windows no longer unpatched. Samuel, 
William, and Robert Evans (the father of the 
novelist) were born in this place, and began 
life as carpenters, as their father before them. 
Samuel Evans became a zealous Methodist, 
and was rather laughed at by his family in 
consequence, for he says, " My elder brothers 
often tried to tease me ; they entertained 
High Church principles. They told me what 
great blunders I made in preaching and 
prayer ; that I had more zeal than knowl- 
edge." In this, as in other respects, he is the 
prototype of Seth, as Adam resembles Robert 
Evans, one of the more secular elder brothers, 
only that in real life it was Samuel who mar- 
ried Elizabeth, the Dinah Morris of fiction. 

Much has been written about this Elizabeth 
Evans (the aunt of George Eliot, already 
spoken of) : indeed, her life was one of such 
rare devotion to an ideal cause, that even 
such imperfect fragments of it as have been 
committed to writing by herself or her friends 
are of considerable interest. Elizabeth was 
born at Newbold in Leicestershire, and left 
her father's house when little more than four- 
teen years old. She joined the Methodists in 



ADAM BEDE. 



145 



1797, after which she had entirely done with 
the pleasures of the world and all her old 
companions. " I saw it my duty," she says, 
" to leave off all my superfluities of dress ; 
hence I pulled off all my bunches, cut off my 
curls, left off my lace, and in this ■ I found an 
unspeakable pleasure. I saw I could make a 
better use of my time and money than to fol- 
low the fashions of a vain world." While still 
a beautiful young girl, attired in a Quaker 
dress and bonnet, she used to walk across 
those bleak Derbyshire hills, looking so 
strangely mournful in their treeless nudity, 
with their bare stone fences gray against a 
grayer sky. Here she trudged from village 
to village, gathering the poor about her, and 
pouring forth words of such earnest convic- 
tion that, as she says, " Many were brought 
to the Lord." The points of resemblance 
between her career and that of Dinah Morris 
cannot fail to strike the reader, even their 
phraseology being often singularly alike, as 
when Mrs. Evans writes in the short account 
of what she calls her " unprofitable life : " 
" I saw it my duty to be wholly devoted to 
God, and to be set apart for the Master's 
use ; " while Dinah says : " My life is too 
short, and God's work is too great for me 
to think of making a home for myself in 



146 GEORGE ELIOT. 

this world." It must be borne in mind, how- 
ever, that these similarities of expression are 
natural enough when one considers that Dinah 
is a type of the same old-fashioned kind of 
Methodism to which Mrs. Evans belonged. 
What is perhaps stranger is, that the account 
given by George Eliot of her various meet- 
ings with her aunt, Mrs. Elizabeth Evans, 
should differ considerably from what the lat- 
ter herself remembered or has stated about 
them. Shortly after the appearance of 'Adam 
Bede,' attention had been publicly called to 
the identity of the heroine of fiction with the 
Methodist preacher. This conviction was so 
strong in Wirksworth, that a number of friends 
placed a memorial tablet in the Methodist 
chapel at Wirksworth with the following in- 
scription : 

ERECTED BY GRATEFUL FRIENDS, 

in JEemorg of 

MRS. ELIZABETH EVANS, 

(KNOWN TO THE WORLD AS " DINAH BEDE ") 

WHO DURING MANY YEARS PROCLAIMED ALIKE IN THE 

OPEN AIR, THE SANCTUARY, AND FROM HOUSE 

TO HOUSE, 

THE LOVE OF CHRIST : 

SHE DIED IN THE LORD, MAY 9TH, 1 849 ; AGED 74 YEARS. 

In order to give a correct notion of the 
amount of truth in her novel, George Eliot 



ADAM BEDE. j 4 y 

wrote in the following terms to her friend 
Miss Hennell on the 7th of October, 1859 : 
"I should like, while the subject is vividly 
present with me, to tell you more exactly than 
I have ever yet done, what I knew of my aunt, 
Elizabeth Evans. My father, you know, lived 
in Warwickshire all my life with him, having 
finally left Staffordshire first, and then Derby- 
shire, six or seven years before he married 
my mother. There was hardly any inter- 
course between my father's family, resident 
in Derbyshire and Staffordshire, and our 
family — few and far between visits of (to 
my childish feeling) strange uncles and aunts 
and cousins from my father's far-off native 
county, and once a journey of my own, as a 
little child, with my father and mother, to see 
my uncle William (a rich builder) in Stafford- 
shire — but not my uncle and aunt Samuel, 
so far as I can recall the dim outline of 
things — are what I remember of northerly 
relatives in my childhood. 

"But when I was seventeen or more — 
after my sister was married, and I was 
mistress of the house — my father took a 
journey into Derbyshire, in which, visiting 
my uncle and aunt Samuel, who were very 
poor, and lived in a humble cottage at Wirks- 
worth, he found my aunt in a very delicate 



I4 8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

state of health after a serious illness, and, to 
do her bodily good, he persuaded her to re- 
turn with him, telling her that I should be 
very, very happy to have her with me for a 
few weeks. I was then strongly under the 
influence of evangelical belief, and earnestly 
endeavoring to shape this anomalous English- 
Christian life of ours into some consistency 
with the spirit and simple verbal tenor of the 
New Testament. I was delighted to see my 
aunt. Although I had only heard her spoken 
of as a strange person, given to a fanatical 
vehemence of exhortation in private as well 
as public, I believed that I should find sym- 
pathy between us. She was then an old 
woman — above sixty — and, I believe, had 
for a good many years given up preaching. 
A tiny little woman, with bright, small dark 
eyes, and hair that had been black, I imagine, 
but was now gray — a pretty woman in her 
youth, but of a totally different physical type 
from Dinah. The difference — as you will 
believe — was not simply physical ; no differ- 
ence is. She was a woman of strong natural 
excitability, which I know, from the descrip- 
tion I have heard my father and half-sister 
give, prevented her from the exercise of dis- 
cretion under the promptings of her zeal. 
But this vehemence was now subdued by age 



ADAM BEDE. 



149 



and sickness ; she was very gentle and quiet 
in her manners, very loving, and (what she 
must have been from the very first) a truly 
religious soul, in whom the love of God and 
love of man were fused together. There was 
nothing rightly distinctive in her religious 
conversation. I had had much intercourse 
with pious dissenters before ; the only fresh- 
ness I found in her talk came from the fact 
that she had been the greater part of her life 
a Wesleyan, and though she left the society 
when women were no longer allowed to preach, 
and joined the New Wesleyans, she retained 
the character of thought that belongs to the 
genuine old Wesleyan. I had never talked 
with a Wesleyan before, and we used to have 
little debates about predestination, for I was 
then a strong Calvinist. Here her superiority 
came out, and I remember now, with loving 
admiration, one thing which at the time I 
disapproved ; it was not strictly a conse- 
quence of her Arminian belief, and at first 
sight might seem opposed to it, yet it came 
from the spirit of love which clings to the 
bad logic of Arminianism. When my uncle 
came to fetch her, after she had been with us 
a fortnight or three weeks, he was speaking 
of a deceased minister once greatly respected, 
who, from the action of trouble upon him, 



i5o 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



had taken to small tippling, though otherwise 
not culpable. ' But I hope the good man's 
in heaven for all that,' said my uncle. ' Oh 
yes,' said my aunt, with a deep inward groan 
of joyful conviction, ' Mr. A.'s in heaven, that's 
sure.' This was at the time an offence to 
my stern, ascetic, hard views — how beautiful 
it is to me now ! 

" As to my aunt's conversation, it is a fact 
that the only two things of any interest I 
remember in our lonely sittings and walks 
are her telling me one sunny afternoon how 
she had, with another pious woman, visited 
an unhappy girl in prison, stayed with her all 
night, and gone with her to execution ; and 
one or two accounts of supposed miracles in 
which she believed, among the rest, the face 
with the crown of thorns seen in the glass. 
In her account of the prison scenes I remem- 
ber no word she uttered ; I only remember 
her tone and manner, and the deep feeling I 
had under the recital. Of the girl she knew 
nothing, I believe, or told me nothing, but 
that she was a common, coarse girl, convicted 
of child-murder. The incident lay in my 
mind for years on years, as a dead germ, 
apparently, till time had made my mind a 
nidus in which it could fructify ; it then 
turned out to be the germ of ' Adam Bede.' 



ADAM BEDE. 151 

" I saw my aunt twice after this. Once I 
spent a day and night with my father in the 
Wirksworth cottage, sleeping with my aunt, 
I remember. Our interview was less inter- 
esting than in the former time ; I think I 
was less simply devoted to religious ideas. 
And once again she came with my uncle to 
see me, when father and I were living at 
Foleshill ; then there was some pain, for I 
had given up the form of Christian belief, and 
was in a crude state of free-thinking. She 
stayed about three or four days, I think. 
This is all I remember distinctly, as matter I 
could write down, of my dear aunt, whom 
I really loved. You see how she suggested 
' Dinah ; ' but it is not possible you should 
see, as I do, how entirely her individuality dif- 
fered from ' Dinah's.' How curious it seems 
to me that people should think ' Dinah's ' 
sermon, prayers, and speeches were copied, 
when they were written with hot tears as they 
surged up in my own mind ! 

"As to my indebtedness to facts of local 
and personal history of a small kind con- 
nected with Staffordshire and Derbyshire, 
you may imagine of what kind that is, when 
I tell you that I never remained in either of 
those counties more than a few days together, 
and of only two such visits have I more than 



152 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



a shadowy, interrupted recollection. The de- 
tails which I know as facts, and have made 
use of for my picture, were gathered from 
such imperfect allusion and narrative as I 
heard from my father in his occasional talk 
about old times. 

" As to my aunt's children or grandchildren 
saying, if they did say, that ' Dinah ' is a good 
portrait of my aunt, that is simply the vague, 
easily satisfied notion imperfectly instructed 
people always have of portraits. It is not 
surprising that simple men and women, with- 
out pretension to enlightened discrimination, 
should think a generic resemblance consti- 
tutes a portrait, when we see the great public, 
so accustomed to be delighted with mw-repre- 
sentations of life and character, which they 
accept as representations, that they are scan- 
dalized when art makes a nearer approach to 
truth. 

" Perhaps I am doing a superfluous thing 
in writing all this to you, but I am prompted 
to do it by the feeling that in future years 
' Adam Bede,' and all that concerns it, may 
have become a dim portion of the past, and 
that I may not be able to recall so much of 
the truth as I have now told you." 

Nothing could prove more conclusively how 
-powerful was the impression which ' Adam 



ADAM BEDE. 



153 



Bede ' created than this controversy concern- 
ing the amount of truth which its characters 
contained. But, as hinted before, it seems 
very likely that some of the doings and say- 
ings of the fictitious personages should have 
been attributed, almost unconsciously, to the 
real people whom they resembled. How quick 
is the popular imagination in effecting these 
transformations came only quite recently un- 
der my notice, when some English travellers, 
while visiting Chateau d'lf, were taken by the 
guide in perfect good faith to see the actual 
dungeon where Monte Christo was impris- 
oned ! Similarly, one would think, that the 
moving sermon preached by Dinah on the 
Green at Hayslope had been afterwards erro- 
neously ascribed to Mrs. Elizabeth Evans. 
But an account recently published in the Cen- 
tury Magazine by one who had long known 
the Evanses of Wirksworth, seems irrecon- 
cilable with such a supposition. According 
to this writer it would appear that besides the 
visits to her aunt at Wirksworth, of which 
George Eliot speaks in the letter just quoted, 
there was one other of which no mention is 
made. This visit, which she paid her uncle, 
Mr. Samuel Evans, occurred in 1842, when 
she remained a week at his house in Wirks- 
worth. The aunt and niece were in the habit 



154 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



of seeing each other every day for several 
hours at this time. They usually met at the 
house of one of the married daughters of 
Mrs. Elizabeth Evans, holding long conversa- 
tions while sitting by themselves in the parlor. 
" These secret conversations," says the writer 
of the article, " excited some curiosity in the 
family, and one day one of the daughters said, 
' Mother, I can't think what thee and Mary 
Ann have got to talk about so much.' To 
which Mrs. Evans replied : ' Well, my dear, I 
don't know what she wants, but she gets me 
to tell her all about my life and my religious 
experience, and she puts it all down in a little 
book. I can't make out what she wants it 
for.' " After her departure, Mrs. Evans is re- 
ported to have said to her daughter, " Oh dear, 
Mary Ann has got one thing I did not mean 
her to take away, and that is the notes of the 
first sermon I preached at Ellaston Green." 
According to the same authority, Marian 
Evans took notes of everything people said 
in her hearing : no matter who was speak- 
ing, down it went into the note-book, which 
seemed never out of her hand ; and these 
notes she is said to have transcribed every 
night before going to bed. Yet this habit 
was foreign to her whole character, and the 
friends who knew her most intimately in 



ADAM BEDE. 155 

youth and later life never remember seeing 
her resort to such a practice. Be that as it 
may, there can be no doubt that the novelist 
very freely used many of the circumstances 
connected with her aunt's remarkable career. 
How closely she adhered to nature is shown 
by the fact that in Mrs. Poyser and Bartle 
Massey she retained the actual names of the 
characters portrayed, as they happened to be 
both dead. Bartle Massey, the village cynic, 
had been the schoolmaster of her father, 
Robert Evans. How accurately the latter, 
together with all his surroundings, was de- 
scribed is shown by the following anecdote. 
On its first appearance ' Adam Bede ' was 
read aloud to an old man, an intimate asso- 
ciate of Robert Evans in his Staffordshire 
days. This man knew nothing concerning 
either author or subject beforehand, and his 
astonishment was boundless on recognizing 
so many friends and incidents of his own 
youth portrayed with unerring fidelity. He 
sat up half the night listening to the story in 
breathless excitement, now and then slapping 
his knee as he exclaimed, " That's Robert, 
that's Robert to the life." 

Although Wirksworth is not the locality 
described in ' Adam Bede,' it contains fea- 
tures recalling that quaint little market-town, 



156 GEORGE ELIOT. 

where over the door of one of the old-fash- 
ioned houses may be read the name made 
illustrious by the inimitable Mrs. Poyser. In 
the neighborhood, too, are " Arkwright's mills 
there at Cromford," casually alluded to by 
Adam Bede ; and should the tourist happen 
to enter one of the cottages of gray stone, 
with blue-washed door and window-frames, he 
may still alight on specimens of Methodism, 
as devout as Seth Bede, eloquently expound- 
ing the latest political event by some prophecy 
of Daniel or Ezekiel. In short, one breathes 
the atmosphere in which such characters as 
Dinah and Seth actually lived and had their 
being. This uncompromising Realism, so far 
from detracting, only enhances the genius 
of this powerful novel. A thousand writers 
might have got hold of these identical mate- 
rials : a George Eliot alone could have cast 
these materials into the mould of 'Adam 
Bede.' Let any one glance at the account of 
their religious experiences, as given by Eliza- 
beth or Samuel Evans, and he will realize all 
the more strongly how great was the genius 
of her who transfused these rambling, com- 
monplace effusions into such an artistic whole. 
I have entered so minutely into this question 
of the likeness between the actual characters 
and those in the novel purely on account of 



ADAM BEDE. 



157 



the biographical interest attaching to it. In 
judging of 'Adam Bede ' as a work of art 
these facts possess next to no importance. 
If we could trace the characters in any one 
of Shakespeare's plays to human beings actu- 
ally connected with the poet, we should con- 
sider such a discovery immensely valuable as 
throwing new light on his own life, though it 
would hardly affect our critical estimate of 
the drama itself. 

So much has been said already about the 
characters in ' Adam Bede ' in connection 
with the real people they resemble, that little 
need be added here about them. Dinah Mor- 
ris — the youthful preacher, whose eloquence 
is but the natural, almost involuntary mani- 
festation in words, of a beautiful soul ; whose 
spring of love is so abundant that it over- 
flows the narrow limits of private affection, 
and blesses multitudes of toiling, suffering 
men and women with its wealth of pity, hope, 
and sympathy — was a new creation in the 
world of fiction. Some writer has pointed 
out a certain analogy between the sweet Der- 
byshire Methodist and the gentle pietist whose 
confessions form a very curious chapter of 
' Wilhelm Meister.' But the two characters 
are too dissimilar for comparison. The Ger- 
man heroine is a dreamy, passive, introspec- 



I5 8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

tive nature, feeling much but doing little; 
whereas the English preacher does not in- 
quire too curiously into the mysteries of her 
faith, but moved by the spirit of its teaching 
goes about actively, participating in the lives 
of others by her rousing words and her acts of 
charity. Only a woman would or could have 
described just such a woman as this : a woman 
whose heart is centred in an impersonal ideal 
instead of in any individual object of love ; 
whereas a man's heroine always has her ex- 
istence rooted in some personal affection or 
passion, whether for parent or lover, child or 
husband. This makes Dinah less romanti- 
cally interesting than Hetty Sorrel, the beau- 
tiful, kittenlike, self-involved creature with 
whom she is so happily contrasted. George 
Eliot never drew a more living figure than 
this of Hetty, hiding such a hard little heart 
under that soft dimpling beauty of hers. 
Again, I think that only a woman would 
have depicted just such a Hetty as this. 
The personal charms of this young girl are 
drawn in words that have the glow of life 
itself ; yet while intensely conscious of her 
beauty, we are kept aware all the time that, 
to use one of the famous Mrs. Poyser's epi- 
grammatic sayings, Hetty is " no better nor a 
cherry wi' a hard stone inside it." George 



ADAM BEDE. 



159 



Eliot is never dazzled or led away by her own 
bewitching creation as a man would have 
been. There is a certain pitilessness in her 
analysis of Hetty's shallow, frivolous little 
soul, almost as if she were saying — See here, 
what stuff this beauty which you adore is 
made of in reality ! To quote her own subtle, 
far-reaching interpretation of beauty : " Het- 
ty's face had a language that transcended 
her feelings. There are faces which nature 
charges with a meaning and pathos not be- 
longing to the simple human soul that flutters 
beneath them, but speaking the joys and sor- 
rows of foregone generations ; eyes that tell 
of deep love which doubtless has been and is 
somewhere, but not paired with these eyes, 
perhaps paired with pale eyes that can say 
nothing, just as a national language may be 
instinct with poetry unfelt by the lips that 
use it." 

The sensation created by ' Adam Bede' was 
shown in other ways besides the claim of 
some to have discovered the original characters 
of this striking novel. The curiosity of the 
public was naturally much exercised as to 
who the unknown author could possibly be, 
who had so suddenly leaped into fame. And 
now there comes on the scene an individual 
who does not claim to be the living model of 



160 GEORGE ELIOT. 

one of the characters portrayed, but to be 
the author of the book himself. And the 
name of this person was Liggins ! 

While the ' Scenes of Clerical Life ' were 
yet appearing in Blackwood's Magazine the 
inhabitants of Nuneaton and its neighbor- 
hood were considerably perplexed and excited 
to find well-known places and persons touched 
off to the life. In Amos Barton they recog- 
nized the incumbent of Coton Church, in Mr. 
Pilgrim a medical man familiar to every child 
in the town, and indeed in every one of the 
characters an equally unmistakable portrait. 
Clearly no one but a fellow-townsman could 
have hit off these wonderful likenesses. Liter- 
ary talent not being too abundant, their choice 
of an author was limited. The only man 
who by any stretch of imagination seemed to 
have the making of a man of letters in him 
was this above-mentioned Liggins. To have 
studied at Cambridge, gallantly run through 
a fortune, and be in very needy circum- 
stances, were exactly the qualifications to be 
expected in a man of genius. Further evi- 
dence seeming unnecessary, the real author- 
ship of the ' Scenes ' was now revealed in an 
Isle of Man paper. At first the reputed 
author gently denied the impeachment, but 
on the appearance of ' Adam Bede ' he sue- 



ADAM BEDE. 161 

cumbed to the temptation. To be feted at 
dinner parties as a successful author, and to 
have a subscription set on foot by enthusi- 
astic lady-admirers and fellow-townsmen, in 
whose eyes he was a sadly unrequited genius, 
proved irresistible. A local clergyman even 
wrote to the Times stating Liggins to be the 
real surname of " George Eliot" ! The latter 
wrote, of course, denying the statement, and 
challenging the pretender to produce some 
specimen of his writing in the style of ' Adam 
Bede.' But the confidence of the Nuneaton 
public in their hero Liggins was not to be so 
easily shaken. Two dissenting ministers from 
Coventry went over to Attleborough to call 
upon the " great author," and to find out if 
he really did write ' Adam Bede.' Liggins 
evaded their questions, indirectly admitting 
that he did ; but when they asked him point 
blank, " Liggins, tell us, did you write ' Adam 
Bede ' ? " he said, " If I didn't, the devil did ! " 
and that was all they could get out of him. 
Another clergyman was much less sceptical, 
assuring every one that he was positive as to 
Liggins being the author, as he had seen the 
MS. of 'Adam Bede' in his hands. To this 
day there lives in the Isle of Man a certain 
venerable old gentleman who has never lost 
his faith in Liggins, but, when George Eliot 



1 62 GEORGE ELIOT. 

is mentioned, gravely shakes his head, im- 
plying that there is more in the name than 
meets the eye of the superficial observer. But 
a heavy retribution befell the poor pseudo- 
author at last, for when his false pretences 
to favor were fully manifest he fell into utter 
neglect and poverty, ending his days in the 
workhouse. 

This foolish misrepresentation hastened the 
disclosure of George Eliot's real personality 
and name, which occurred on the publication 
of ' The Mill on the Floss.' George Eliot 
says that on December 10, 1857, Major Black- 
wood called on them, when " it was evident 
to us, when he had been in the room a few 
minutes, that he knew I was George Eliot." 
It was on February 28, 1858, on the day 
when Mr. John Blackwood received the first 
instalment of ' Adam Bede ' that he was in- 
troduced to George Eliot, who thus describes 
the introduction : " He talked a good deal 
about the ' Clerical Scenes ' and George 
Eliot, and at last asked, ' Well, am I to see 
George Eliot this time? ' G. said, ' Do you 
wish to see him ? ' ' As he likes, I wish it 
to be quite spontaneous. ' I left the room, 
and G. following me a moment I told him 
he might reveal me. " 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 

While the public had been trying to discover 
who the mysterious George Eliot could pos- 
sibly be, one person there was who immedi- 
ately penetrated the disguise, and felt positive 
as to the identity of the author. On reading 
the ' Scenes ' and especially ' Adam Bede,' he 
was convinced that no one but a member of 
his own family could have written these sto- 
ries. He recognized incidents, touches, a 
saying here or there, just the things that no 
one outside his own home could by any 
chance have come upon. But George Eliot's 
brother kept this discovery closely locked 
within his own breast. He trembled lest 
any one else should discover the secret, 
fearing the outcry of neighbors who might 
not always feel that the author had repre- 
sented them in colors sufficiently flattering. 

When ' The Mill on the Floss ' appeared, 
however, the veil was lifted, and people heard 
that George Eliot had once been a Miss 



ify GEORGE ELIOT. 

Marian Evans, who came from the neighbor- 
hood of Nuneaton in Warwickshire. To her 
brother Isaac alone this was no news, as he 
had detected his sister" in the first of the 
' Scenes.' The child-life of Tom and Mag- 
gie Tulliver was in many respects an auto- 
biography ; and no biographer can ever hope 
to describe the early history of George Eliot 
as she herself has done in ' The Mill on the 
Floss.' How many joys and griefs of those 
happy careless days must have been recalled 
to her brother — those days when little Mary 
Ann had sat poring over Daniel Defoe's ' His- 
tory of the Devil ' — or sought refuge in the 
attic at Griff House, after a quarrel with him : 
" This attic was Maggie's favorite retreat on a 
wet day, when the weather was not too cold ; 
here she fretted out all her ill-humors, and 
talked aloud to the worm-eaten floors and the 
worm-eaten shelves, and the dark rafters fes- 
tooned with cobwebs ; and here she kept a 
Fetish which she punished for all her mis- 
fortunes. This was the trunk of a large 
wooden doll, which once stared with the 
roundest of eyes above the reddest of cheeks, 
but was now entirely defaced by a long career 
of vicarious suffering. Three nails driven 
into the head commemorated as many crises 
in Maggie's nine years of earthly struggle, 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 165 

that luxury of vengeance having been sug- 
gested to her by the picture of Jael destroy- 
ing Sisera in the old Bible." 

Again, at some fields' distance from their 
old home there had been a " Round Pool " 
called " The Moat," " almost a perfect round, 
framed in with willows and tall reeds, so that 
the water was only to be seen when you got 
close to the brink. This was a favorite re- 
sort of Isaac and Mary Ann, as also of Tom 
and his sister when they went fishing to- 
gether, and " Maggie thought it probable that 
the small fish would come to her hook and 
the large ones to Tom's." The " Red Deeps," 
too, where Maggie loved to walk in June, 
when the " dog-roses were in their glory," 
and where she lived through many phases of 
her shifting inner life, was in the same vici- 
nity, and at one time a beloved haunt of the 
future novelist. 

But although some of the spots mentioned 
in ' The Mill on the Floss ' have been easily 
identified as connected with George Eliot's 
early home, the scenery of that novel is mainly 
laid in Lincolnshire. St. Oggs, with " its red- 
fluted roofs and broad warehouse gables," 
is the ancient town of Gainsborough. The 
Floss is a tidal river like the Trent, and in 
each case the spring-tide, rushing up the river 



1 66 GEORGE ELIOT. 

with its terrific wave and flooding the land 
for miles round, is known as the Eagre, a 
name not a little descriptive of the thing 
itself. 

' The Mill on the Floss ' (a title adopted by 
the author at the suggestion of Mr. Black- 
wood in preference to ' Sister Maggie ') is the 
most poetical of George Eliot's novels. The 
great Floss, hurrying between green pastures 
to the sea, gives a unity of its own to this 
story, which opens to the roar of waters, the 
weltering waters which accompany it at the 
close. It forms the elemental background 
which rounds the little lives of the ill-starred 
family group nurtured on its banks. The 
childhood of Tom and Maggie Tulliver is 
inextricably blended with this swift river, the 
traditions of which have been to them as 
fairy tales ; its haunting presence is more or 
less with them throughout their chequered 
existence ; and when pride and passion, when 
shame and sorrow, have divided the brother 
and sister, pursued as by some tragic fate, the 
Floss seems to rise in sympathy, and sub- 
merges them in its mighty waters to unite 
them once more " in an embrace never to be 
parted." It cannot fail to strike the reader 
that in almost every one of George Eliot's 
novels there occurs a death by drowning : as in 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 167 

the instance of Thias Bede, of Dunstan Cass, 
of Henleigh Grandcourt, and nearly in that of 
Tito. This may be accounted for by the fact 
that as a child the novelist became acquainted 
with the sudden death of a near relative who 
had accidentally fallen into a stream : an in- 
cident which sunk deeply into her retentive 
mind. 

Fate plays a very conspicuous part in this 
as in most of George Eliot's novels. But it 
is not the Fate of the Greeks, it is not a 
power that affects human existence from 
without : it rather lies at the root of it, more 
or less shaping that existence according to 
obscure inherited tendencies, and in the col- 
lision between character and circumstance, 
between passion and law, potent only in 
proportion as the individual finally issues 
conquered or a conqueror from the struggle 
of life. This action of character on circum- 
stance and of circumstance on character is 
an ever-recurring motif with George Eliot. 
We constantly see adverse circumstances 
modifying and moulding the lives of the 
actors in her stories. She has hardly, if 
ever, therefore, drawn a hero or heroine, for 
these, instead of yielding, make circumstances 
yield to them. Dorothea and Lydgate, in 
abandoning their striving after the highest 



1 68 GEORGE ELIOT. 

kind of life ; Tito in invariably yielding to 
the most pleasurable prompting of the mo- 
ment ; Gwendolen in being mainly influenced 
by circumstances acting on her, without her 
reacting on them, are all types of this kind. 

Maggie belongs, on the whole, to the same 
type. She, too, is what Goethe calls a prob- 
lematic nature, a nature which, along with 
vast possibilities and lofty aspirations, lacks 
a certain fixity of purpose, and drifting help- 
lessly from one extreme to another, is shat- 
tered almost as soon as it has put out of port. 
In Maggie's case this evil springs from the 
very fulness of her nature ; from the acute- 
ness of an imagination which the many-sided- 
ness of life attracts by turns in the most 
opposite directions. -*Tom, on the other hand, 
with his narrow practical understanding, en- 
tirely concentrated on the business in hand, 
swerves neither to right nor left, because he 
may be said to resemble a horse with blinkers, 
in that he sees only the road straight ahead. 
Maggie, with all her palpable weaknesses and 
startling inconsistencies, is the most adorable 
of George Eliot's women, j In all poetry and 
fiction there is no child more delicious than 
the " little wench " with her loving heart and 
dreamy ways, her rash impulses and wild 
regrets, her fine susceptibilities and fiery jets 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 



169 



of temper — in a word, her singularly fresh 
and vital nature. The same charm pervades 
every phase of her life. In her case the child, 
if I may so far modify Wordsworth's famous 
saying, is eminently the mother of the wo- 
man. 

Profoundly affectionate by nature, and sym- 
pathizing as she does with her father in his 
calamity, she cannot help rebelling at the sor- 
did narrowness of her daily life, passionately 
craving for a wider field wherein to develop 
her inborn faculties. In this state of yearn- 
ing and wild unrest, her accidental reading of 
Thomas a. Kempis forms a crisis in her life, 
by bringing about a spiritual awakening in 
which Christianity, for the first time, becomes 
a living truth to her. Intense as she is, 
Maggie now throws all the ardor of her na- 
ture into renunciation and self-conquest. She 
seeks her highest satisfaction in abnegation 
of all personal desire, and in entire devotion 
to others. In her young asceticism she re- 
linquishes a world of which she is ignorant, 
stifling every impulse, however innocent, that 
seems opposed to her new faith. 

But Maggie has more actual affinity with 
poets and artists than with saints and mar- 
tyrs. Her soul thrills like a finely touched 
instrument to the beauty of the world around 



IjO GEORGE ELIOT. 

her, and though she doubts whether there 
may not even be a sinfulness in the indul- 
gence of this enjoyment, yet the summer 
flowers and the summer sunshine put her 
scruples to flight. And then, when, through 
the intervention of Philip Wakem, the en- 
chantments of romance and poetry are brought 
within her reach, the glory of the world again 
lays hold of her imagination, and a fresh con- 
flict is begun in her soul. Thus she drifts 
from one state into another most opposed to 
it, and to an outside observer, such as Tom, 
her abrupt transitions are a sign that she is 
utterly wanting in moral stamina. 

Not only Tom, but many eminent critics, 
who have descanted with fond partiality on 
Maggie's early life, seem to be shocked by 
that part of her story in which she allows 
herself to fall passionately in love with such 
an ordinary specimen of manhood as Stephen 
Guest. The author has even been accused 
of violating the truth of Nature, inasmuch as 
such a high-minded woman as Maggie could 
never have inclined to so vulgar, so common- 
place a man as her lover. Others, while not 
questioning the truth of the character, find 
fault with the poor heroine herself, whom they 
pronounce an ineffective nature revealing its 
innate unsoundness by the crowning error of 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. \>jy 

an abject passion for so poor a creature as 
the dandy of St. Oggs. This contention only 
proves the singular vitality of the character 
itself, and nothing is more psychologically 
true in George Eliot's studies of character 
than this love of the high-souled heroine for 
a man who has no corresponding fineness of 
fibre in his nature, his attraction lying en- 
tirely in the magnetism of mutual passion. 
This vitality places Maggie Tulliver by the 
side of the Juliets, the Mignons, the Con- 
suelos, the Becky Sharps, and other airy in- 
heritors of immortality. It is curious that 
Mr. Swinburne, in view of such a character 
as this, or, indeed, bearing in mind a Silas 
Marner, a Dolly Winthrop, a Tito, and other 
intrinsically living reproductions of human 
nature, should describe George Eliot's as in- 
tellectually constructed characters in contrast 
to Charlotte Bronte's creations, the former, 
according to him, being the result of intellect, 
the latter of genius. If ever character came 
simply dropped out of the mould of Nature it 
is that of Maggie. His assumption, that ' The 
Mill on the Floss ' can in any sense have 
been suggested by, or partially based upon, 
Mrs. Gaskell's story of 'The Moorland Cot- 
tage,' seems equally baseless. There is cer- 
tainly the identity of name in the heroines, 



172 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



and some resemblance of situation as regards 
portions of the story, but both the name and 
the situation are sufficiently common not to 
excite astonishment at such a coincidence. 
Had George Eliot really known of this tale — 
a tale feebly executed at the best — she would 
obviously have altered the name so as not to 
make her obligation too patent to the world. 
As it is, she was not a little astonished and 
even indignant, on accidentally seeing this 
opinion stated in some review, and posi- 
tively denied ever having seen the story in 
question. 

Indeed, when one knows how this story 
grew out of her own experience, how its 
earlier portions especially are a record of her 
own and her brother's childhood — how even 
Mrs. Glegg and Mrs. Pullet were only too 
faithfully done from the aunts of real life, one 
need not go far afield to seek for its origin. 
Every author usually writes one book, which 
he might more or less justly entitle ' My Con- 
fessions,' into which he pours an intimate part 
of his life under a thin disguise of fiction, a 
book invariably exciting a unique kind of in- 
terest in the reader be he conscious or not of 
the presence of this autobiographical element. 
Fielding's ' Amelia/ Thackeray's ' Penden- 
nis/ Dickens's ' David Copperfield,' Charlotte 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 



173 



Bronte s ' Villette,' are cases in point. ' The 
Mill on the Floss' is a work of similar nature. 
Maggie Tulliver is George Eliot herself, but 
only one side, one portion, one phase of George 
Eliot's many-sided, vastly complex nature. 
It is George Eliot's inner life in childhood 
and youth as it appeared to her own con- 
sciousness. We recognize in it her mental 
acuteness, her clinging affectionateness, her 
ambition, her outlook beyond the present, 
her religious and moral preoccupations ; even 
her genius is not so much omitted as left in 
an undeveloped, rudimentary state. While her 
make-believe stories, her thirst for knowledge, 
her spiritual wrestlings, and the passionate 
response of her soul to high thinking, noble 
music, and the beautiful in all its forms, show 
that the making of genius was there in germ. 
Much in the same manner Goethe was fond 
of partitioning his nature, and of giving only 
the weaker side to his fictitious representa- 
tives. Conscious in himself of fluctuations of 
purpose which he only got the better of by 
his indomitable will, he usually endowed these 
characters with his more impulsive, pliant self, 
as manifested in Werther, in Tasso, in Edward 
of the ' Elective Affinities.' In this sense also 
Maggie Tulliver resembles George Eliot. She 
is her potential self, such as she might have 



I7 4 GEORGE ELIOT. 

been had there not been counterbalancing 
tendencies of unusual force, sufficient to hold 
in check all erratic impulses contrary to the 
main direction of her life. 

While tempted to dwell largely on Maggie 
Tulliver, the central figure of ' The Mill on 
the Floss,' it would be very unfair to slur over 
the other admirably drawn characters of this 
novel. Her brother Tom, already repeatedly 
alluded to, is in every sense the counterpart 
of " Sister Maggie." Hard and narrow-minded 
he was from a boy, "particularly clear and 
positive on one point, namely, that he would 
punish everybody who deserved it : why, he 
wouldn't have minded being punished him- 
self, if he deserved it ; but, then, he never did 
deserve it." This strikes the key-note of a 
character whose stern inflexibility, combined 
with much practical insight and dogged per- 
sistence of effort, is at the same time dignified 
by a high, if somewhat narrow, sense of family 
honor. Conventional respectability, in fact, is 
Tom Tulliver's religion. He is not in any 
sense bad, or mean, or sordid ; he is only so 
circumscribed in his perceptive faculties, that 
he has no standard by which to measure 
thoughts or feelings that transcend his own 
very limited conception of life. 

Both by his good and his bad qualities, by 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 175 

his excellencies and his negations, Tom Tul- 
liver proves himself what he is — a genuine 
sprig of the Dodson family, a chip of the old 
block ! And the Dodson sisters are, in their 
way, among the most amazingly living por- 
traitures that George Eliot ever achieved. 
Realism in art can go no further in this di- 
rection. These women, if present in the flesh, 
would not be so distinctively vivid as when 
beheld through the transfixing medium of 
George Eliot's genius. For here we have the 
personages, with all their quaintnesses, their 
eccentricities, their odd, old-fashioned twists 
and ways — only observed by fragments in 
actual life — successfully brought to a focus 
for the delight and amusement of genera- 
tions of readers. There is nothing grotesque, 
nothing exaggerated, in these humorous fig- 
ures. The comic effect is not produced, as 
is often the case with the inventions of Dick- 
ens, by some set peculiarity of manner or 
trick of speech, more in the spirit of cari- 
cature. On the contrary, it is by a strict 
adherence to the just mean of nature, by a 
conscientious care not to overstep her proba- 
bilities, that we owe these matchless types of 
English provincial life. And the genuine 
humor of these types verges on the pathetic, 
in that the infinitely little of their lives is so 



176 GEORGE ELIOT. 

magnified by them out of all proportion to its 
real importance. Mrs. Glegg, with her dicta- 
torial ways, her small economies, her anxiety 
to make a handsome figure in her will, and 
her invariable reference to what was "the 
way in our family," as a criterion of right 
behavior on all occasions : Mrs. Pullet, the 
wife of the well-to-do yeoman-farmer, bent on 
proving her gentility and wealth by the deli- 
cacy of her health, and the quantity of doctor's 
stuff she can afford to imbibe : Mrs. Tulliver, 
the good, muddle-headed woman, whose hus- 
band " picked her from her sisters o' purpose, 
'cause she was a bit weak, like," and for whom 
the climax of misery in bankruptcy is the loss 
of her china and table-linen : these, as well as 
the hen-pecked Mr. Glegg, and the old-maidish 
Mr. Pullet, are worthy pendants to Mrs. Poyser 
and Dolly Winthrop. 

Whether too great a predominance may 
not be given to the narrow, trivial views of 
these people, with their prosaic respectability, 
is a nice question, which one is inclined to an- 
swer in the negative on reading such a conju- 
gal scene as that between Mr. and Mrs. Glegg, 
after the latter's quarrel with Mr. Tulliver : 

" It was a hard case that a vigorous mood 
for quarrelling, so highly capable of using any 
opportunity, should not meet with a single 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 177 

remark from Mr. Glegg on which to exer- 
cise itself. But by-and-by it appeared that 
his silence would answer the purpose, for he 
heard himself apostrophized at last in that 
tone peculiar to the wife of one's bosom. 

" ' Well, Mr. Glegg ! it's a poor return I 
get for making you the wife I've made you all 
these years. If this is the way I'm to be 
treated, I'd better ha' known it before my 
poor father died, and then when I'd wanted 
a home, I should ha' gone elsewhere — as the 
choice was offered me.' 

" Mr. Glegg paused from his porridge and 
looked up, not with any new amazement, but 
simply with that quiet, habitual wonder with 
which we regard constant mysteries. 

" ' Why, Mrs. G., what have I done now ? ' 

" ' Done now, Mr. Glegg ? done now ? . . . 
I'm sorry for you.' 

" Not seeing his way to any pertinent an- 
swer, Mr. Glegg reverted to his porridge. 

" ' There's husbands in the world,' continued 
Mrs. Glegg, after a pause, ' as 'ud have known 
how to do something different to siding with 
everybody else against their own wives. Per- 
haps I'm wrong, and you can teach me better. 
But I've allays heard as it's the husband's 
place to stand by the wife, instead of rejoicing 
and triumphing when folks insult her.' 



i 7 8 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



" ' Now what call have you to say that ? ' 
said Mr. Glegg rather warmly, for, though a 
kind man, he was not as meek as Moses. 
' When did I rejoice or triumph over you ?' 

" ' There's ways o' doing things worse than 
speaking out plain, Mr. Glegg. I'd sooner 
you'd tell me to my face as you make light of 
me, than try to make as everybody's in the 
right but me, and come to your breakfast in 
the morning, as I've hardly slept an hour this 
night, and sulk at me as if I was the dirt un- 
der your feet.' 

" ' Sulk at you ? ' said Mr. Glegg, in a tone 
of angry facetiousness. ' You're like a tipsy 
man as thinks everybody's had too much but 
himself.' 

" ' Don't lower yourself with using coarse 
language to me, Mr. Glegg ! It makes you 
look very small, though you can't see your- 
self,' said Mrs. Glegg, in a tone of energetic 
compassion. ' A man in your place should 
set an example, and talk more sensible.' " 

After a good deal of sparring in the same 
tone, Mr. Glegg at last bursts forth : " ( Did 
ever anybody hear the like i' this parish ? A 
woman with everything provided for her, and 
allowed to keep her own money the same as 
if it was settled on her, and with a gig new 
stuffed and lined at no end o' expense, and 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. jyg 

provided for when I die beyond anything she 
could expect ... to go on i' this way, biting 
and snapping like a mad dog ! It's beyond 
everything, as God A'mighty should ha' made 
women so.' (These last words were uttered 
in a tone of sorrowful agitation. Mr. Glegg 
pushed his tea from him, and tapped the table 
with both his hands.) 

" ' Well, Mr. Glegg ! if those are your feel- 
ings, it's best they should be known,' said Mrs. 
Glegg, taking off her napkin, and folding it 
in an excited manner. ' But if you talk o' my 
being provided for beyond what I could expect, 
I beg leave to tell you as I'd a right to expect 
a many things as I don't find. And as to my 
being like a mad dog, it's well if you're not 
cried shame on by the country for your treat- 
ment of me, for it's what I can't bear, and I 
won't bear.' . . . 

" Here Mrs. Glegg's voice intimated that 
she was going to cry, and, breaking off from 
speech, she rang the bell violently. 

" ' Sally,' she said, rising from her chair, 
and speaking in rather a choked voice, ' light 
a fire up-stairs, and put the blinds down. 
Mr. Glegg, you'll please order what you like 
for dinner. I shall have gruel.' " 

Equally well drawn in their way, though 
belonging to a different class of character, are 



I So GEORGE ELIOT. 

Maggie's cousin, the lovely, gentle, and re- 
fined Lucy; Philip Wakem, whose physical 
malformation is compensated by exceptional 
culture and nobility of nature ; Mr. Tulliver, 
the headstrong, violent, but withal generous, 
father of Maggie, and his sister Mrs. Moss, 
whose motherliness and carelessness of ap- 
pearances form a striking foil to the Dodson 
sisters. Indeed, ' The Mill on the Floss ' is 
so rich in minor characters that it is impossi- 
ble to do more than mention such capital 
sketches as that of Bob Jakin and his dog 
Mumps, or of Luke, the head miller, who 
has no opinion of reading, considering that 
"There's fools enoo — an' rogues enoo — wi- 
out lookin' i' books for 'em." 

The distinguishing feature of this novel, 
however, lies not so much in its wealth of 
portraiture or freshness of humor as in a cer- 
tain passionate glow of youth, which emanates 
from the heroine, and seems to warm the story 
through and through. For passion, pathos, 
and poetic beauty of description, ' The Mill on 
the Floss ' is certainly unique among George 
Eliot's works. 



CHAPTER X. 



SILAS MARNER. 



'The Mill on the Floss,' which appeared 
in i860, fully established George Eliot's 
popularity with the public. In July, 1859, 
she published anonymously, in Blackwood 's 
Magazine, a short story called ' The Lifted 
Veil.' This tale is curious as differing con- 
siderably from her general style, having a 
certain mystical turn, which perhaps recom- 
mended it more especially to the admiration 
of Bulwer Lytton ; but, indeed, it attracted 
general attention. In the meanwhile the re- 
lations between author and publisher became 
more and more friendly ; the latter's critical 
acumen and sound judgment being highly 
esteemed by George Eliot. " He judged well 
of writing," she remarked, "because he had 
learned to judge well of men and things, not 
merely through quickness of observation and 
insight, but with the illumination of a heart 
in the right place." 

This was the most productive period of 



1 82 GEORGE ELIOT. 

George Eliot's life. In three successive years 
she published ' Adam Bede,' ' The Mill on 
the Floss/ and ' Silas Marner,' the last story 
appearing in 1861. When the amount of 
thought, observation, and wisdom concen- 
trated in these novels is taken into consider- 
ation, it must be admitted that her mental 
energy was truly astonishing. But it was 
the accumulated experience of her whole past, 
the first abundant math borne by the spring- 
tide of life which was garnered up in these 
three remarkable works. Afterwards, when 
she came to write her next book, ' Romola,' 
she turned to entirely fresh fields of inspira- 
tion ; indeed, already at this date her mind 
was occupied with the idea of an Italian 
novel of the time of Savonarola. 

In the meanwhile she produced her most 
finished work. She wrote ' Silas Marner, the 
Weaver of Raveloe.' I call ' Silas Marner ' 
her most finished work, not only because of 
the symmetry with which each part is ad- 
justed in relation to the whole, nor because 
of the absence of those partly satirical, partly 
moral reflections with which George Eliot 
usually accompanies the action of her stories, 
but chiefly on account of the simple pathos 
of the central motive into which all the differ- 
ent incidents and characters naturally con- 



SILAS MARNER. 183 

verge. How homely are the elements from 
which this work of art is constructed, and 
how matchless the result ! 

Nothing but the story of a humble weaver 
belonging to a small dissenting community 
which assembled in Lantern Yard, some- 
where in the back streets of a manufacturing 
town ; of a faithless love and a false friend, 
and the loss of trust in all things human or 
divine. Nothing but the story of a lone, 
bewildered man, shut out from his kind, con- 
centrating every balked passion into one — 
the all-engrossing passion for gold. And 
then the sudden disappearance of the hoard 
from its accustomed hiding-place, and in its 
stead the startling apparition of a golden- 
haired little child, found one snowy winter's 
night sleeping on the floor in front of the 
glimmering hearth. And the gradual re- 
awakening of love in the heart of the soli- 
tary man, a love " drawing his hope and joy 
continually onward beyond the money," and 
once more bringing him into sympathetic re- 
lations with his fellow-men. 

" In old days," says the story, " there were 
angels who came and took men by the hand 
and led them away from the city of destruc- 
tion. We see no white-winged angels now. 
But yet men are led away from threatening 



1 84 GEORGE ELIOT. 

destruction ; a hand is put into theirs, which 
leads them forth gently towards a calm and 
bright land, so that they look no more back- 
ward, and the hand may be a little child's." 

Curiously enough, I came quite recently 
upon a story which in its leading features 
very closely resembles this tale of the ' Weaver 
of Raveloe.' It is called 'Jermola the Potter/ 
and is considered the masterpiece of J. I. 
Kraszewski, the Polish novelist, author of at 
least one hundred and fifty works in different 
branches of literature. 'Jermola/ the most 
popular of them all, has been translated into 
French, Dutch, and German. It gives an 
extraordinarily vivid picture of peasant life 
in a remote Polish village, and not only of 
peasant life, but of the manners and habits 
of the landed proprietor, the Jew, the arti- 
san, and the yeoman, in a community whose 
modes of life have undergone but little modi- 
fication since the Middle Ages. These pic- 
tures, though not elaborated with anything 
like the minute care of George Eliot's de- 
scriptions of English country life, yet from 
their extreme simplicity produce a most pow- 
erful impression on the reader. 

The story, in brief, is that of Jermola, the 
body servant of a Polish nobleman in Vol- 
hynia, whom he has served with rare devotion 



SILAS MARNER. 



185 



during the greater part of his life. Left 
almost a beggar at his master's death, with- 
out a single human tie, all he can get for 
years of faithful service is a tumble-down, 
forsaken old inn, where he manages to keep 
body and soul together in a dismantled room 
that but partly shelters him from the inclem- 
ency of the weather. Hopeless, aimless, love- 
less, he grows old before his time, and the 
passing of the days affects him hardly more 
than it does a stone. But one evening, as he 
is sitting in front of a scanty fire repeating 
the Lord's Prayer, the cry as of a little child 
startles him from his devotion. Going to 
look what can be the meaning of such un- 
usual sounds, he soon discovers an infant in 
linen swaddling-clothes wailing under an old 
oak tree. He takes the foundling home, and 
from that moment a new life enters the old 
man's breast. He is rejuvenated by twenty 
years. He is kept in a constant flutter of 
hope, fear, and activity. A kind-hearted 
woman, called the Kozaczicha, tenders him 
her services, but he is so jealous of any one 
but himself doing aught for the child, that he 
checks her advances, and by hook or by crook 
obtains a goat from an extortionate Jew, by 
the help of which he rears the boy satisfac- 
torily. Then, wishing to make a livelihood 



i86 GEORGE ELIOT. 

for the child's sake, he inclines at first to the 
craft of the weaver, but finally turns potter 
in his old age. Love sharpening his wits, he 
plies quite a thriving trade in time, and the 
beautiful boy brings him into more friendly 
relations with his neighbors. But one day, 
when Radionek, who has learned Jermola's 
trade, is about twelve years old, the real 
parents appear and claim him as their own. 
They had never dared to acknowledge their 
marriage till the father, who had threatened 
to disinherit his son in such an event, had de- 
parted this life. Now, having nothing more 
to fear, they want to have their child back, 
and to bring him up as befits their station in 
life. Jermola suffers a deadly anguish at this 
separation ; the boy, too, is in despair, for he 
clings fondly to .the old man who has reared 
him with more than a father's love. But the 
parents insisting on their legal rights, Radi- 
onek is at last carried off to their house in 
town, to be turned into a gentleman, being 
only grudgingly allowed to see Jermola from 
time to time. The boy pines, however, for 
the dear familiar presence of his foster-father, 
and the free outdoor life, and at last, after 
some years of misery, he appears one day 
suddenly in Jermola's hut, who has given up 
his pottery in order to be secretly near the 



SILAS MARNER. 187 

child he is afraid to go and see. The piteous 
entreaties of Radionek, and the sight of his 
now sickly countenance, induce the old man 
to flee into the pathless forests, where the two 
may escape unseen, and reach some distant 
part of the country to take up their old pleas- 
ant life once more. But the hardships and 
fatigues of the journey are too much for the 
boy's enfeebled health, and just as they come 
within sight of human dwellings, he is seized 
with a fever which cuts his young life short, 
leaving Jermola nearly crazy with anguish. 
Long afterwards a little decrepit old man 
was to be seen by churchgoers sitting near a 
grave, whom the children mocked by calling 
the " bony little man," because he seemed to 
consist of nothing but bones. 

Such is the bare outline of a story whose 
main idea, that of the redemption of a human 
soul from cold, petrifying isolation, by means 
of a little child, is unquestionably the same as 
in ' Silas Marner.' Other incidents, such as 
that of the peasant woman who initiates Jer- 
mola into the mysteries of baby management, 
and the disclosure of the real parents after a 
lapse of years, wanting to have their child 
back, suggest parallel passages in the English 
book. But coincidences of this kind are, 
after all, natural enough, considering that the 



1 88 GEORGE ELIOT. 

circle of human feeling and action is limited, 
and that in all ages and countries like condi- 
tions must give rise to much the same se- 
quence of events. It is therefore most likely 
that George Eliot never saw, and possibly 
never even heard of, ' Jermola the Potter.' 

The monotonous tone in the narrative of 
this Polish novel is in strong contrast, it may 
be observed, to George Eliot's vivid and 
varied treatment of her subject. This mo- 
notony, however, suits the local coloring of 
'Jermola,' by suggesting the idea of the 
league-long expanse of ancient forests whose 
sombre solitudes encompass with a myste- 
rious awe the little temporary dwellings of 
men. But if the foreign story surpasses 
' Silas Marner ' in tragic pathos, the latter 
far excels it in the masterly handling of char- 
acter and dialogue, in the underlying breadth 
of thought, and, above all, in the precious salt 
of its humor. 

Indeed, for humor, for sheer force, for in- 
tense realism, George Eliot, in the immortal 
scene at the " Rainbow," may be said to rival 
Shakespeare. Her farriers, her butchers, her 
wheelwrights, her tailors, have the same 
startling vitality, the same unmistakable ac- 
cents of nature, the same distinctive yet un- 
forced individuality, free from either exaggera- 



SILAS MARNER. 



189 



tion or caricature. How delicious is the de- 
scription of the party assembled in the kitchen 
of that inn, whose landlord — a strong advo- 
cate for compromising whatever differences 
of opinion may arise between his customers, 
as beings " all alike in need of liquor " — 
clinches all arguments by his favorite phrase 
— " You're both right and you're both 
wrong, as I say." How admirably comic are 
these villagers, invariably beginning their 
nightly sittings by a solemn silence, in which 
one and all puff away at their pipes, staring 
at the fire " as if a bet were depending on 
the first man who winked." And when they 
begin at last, how rich is the flavor of that 
talk, given with an unerring precision that 
forthwith makes one acquainted with the 
crass ignorance and shrewdness, the mother- 
wit and superstition, so oddly jumbled to- 
gether in the villager's mind. What sublime 
absence of all knowledge of his native land is 
shown by the veteran parish clerk, Mr. Macey, 
in speaking of a person from another county 
which apparently could not be so very differ- 
ent "from this country, for he brought a fine 
breed o' sheep with him, so there must be 
pastures there, and everything reasonable." 
Yet the same man can put down youthful 
presumption pretty sharply, as when he re- 



jg GEORGE ELIOT. 

marks : " There's allays two 'pinions ; there's 
the 'pinion a man has o' himsen, and there's 
the 'pinion other folks have on him. There'd 
be two 'pinions about a cracked bell, if the 
bell could hear itself." 

Dolly Winthrop, the wife of the jolly wheel- 
wright who makes one of the company at the 
" Rainbow," is no less admirable. She is not 
cut after any particular pattern or type of hu- 
man nature, but has a distinctive individuality, 
and is full of a freshness and unexpectedness 
which sets foregone conclusions at defiance. 
I A notable woman, with a boundless appetite 
for work, so that, rising at half-past four, she 
has " a bit o' time to spare most days, for 
when one gets up betimes i' the morning the 
clock seems to stan' still tow'rt ten, afore it's 
time to go about the victual."| Yet with all 
this energy she is not shrewish, but a calm, 
grave woman, in much request in sick-rooms 
or wherever there is trouble. She is good- 
looking, too, and of a comfortable temper, be- 
ing patiently tolerant of her husband's jokes, 
" considering that ' men would be so,' and 
viewing the stronger sex ' in the light of ani- 
mals whom it pleased Heaven to make trou- 
blesome like bulls or turkey-cocks.' " 

Her vague idea, shared indeed by Silas, 
that he has quite another faith from herself, 



SILAS MARNER. 



IQI 



as coming from another part of the country, 
gives a vivid idea of remote rural life, as well 
as her own dim, semi-pagan but thoroughly 
reverential religious feelings, prompting her 
always to speak of the Divinity in the plural, 
as when she says to Marner : " I've looked 
for help in the right quarter, and give myself 
up to Them as we must all give ourselves up 
to at the last ; and if we'n done our part, it 
isn't to be believed as Them as are above us 
'ull be worse nor we are, and come short o' 
Theirn." 

The humor shown in these scenes and 
characters, or, more properly speaking, George 
Eliot's humor in general, belongs to the high- 
est order, the same as Shakespeare's. It is> 
based on the essential elements of human 
nature itself, on the pathetic incongruities of 
which that " quintessence of dust," man, is 
made up, instead of finding the comic in the 
purely accidental or external circumstances of 
life, as is the case with such humorists as 
Rabelais and Dickens. These latter might 
find a good subject for their comic vein in 
seeing the Venus of Milo's broken nose, which 
a mischievous urchin had again stuck on the 
wrong side upwards — a sight to send the 
ordinary spectator into fits of laughter. But 
the genuine humorist sees something in that 



192 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



feature itself, as nature shaped it, to excite his 
facetiousness. In ' A Minor Prophet ' some 
lines occur in which a somewhat similar view 
of the genuine source of humor is pithily 
put : 

" My yearnings fail 
To reach that high apocalyptic mount 
Which shows in bird's-eye view a perfect world, 
Or enter warmly into other joys 
Than those of faulty, struggling human kind. 
That strain upon my soul's too feeble wing 
Ends in ignoble floundering : I fall 
Into short-sighted pity for the men 
Who, living in those perfect future times, 
Will not know half the dear imperfect things 
That move my smiles and tears — will never know 
The fine old incongruities that raise 
My friendly laugh; the innocent conceits 
That like a needless eyeglass or black patch 
Give those who wear them harmless happiness ; 
The twists and cracks in our poor earthenware, 
That touch me to more conscious fellowship 
(I am not myself the finest Parian) 
With my coevals." 

Again, in her essay on ' Heinrich Heine/ 
George Eliot thus defines the difference be- 
tween humor and wit : " Humor is of earlier 
growth than wit, and it is in accordance with 
this earlier growth that it has more affinity 
with the poetic tendencies, while wit is more 
nearly allied to the ratiocinative intellect. 
Humor draws its materials from situations 
and characteristics ; wit seizes on unexpected 



SILAS MARNER. 



193 



and complex relations. ... It is only the in- 
genuity, condensation, and instantaneousness 
which lift some witticisms from reasoning into 
wit ; they are reasoning raised to its highest 
power. On the other hand, humor, in its 
higher forms and in proportion as it asso- 
ciates itself with the sympathetic emotions, 
continually passes into poetry : nearly all 
great modern humorists may be called prose 
poets." 

/The quality which distinguishes George 
Eliot's humor may be said to characterize 
her treatment of human nature generally: In 
her delineations of life she carefully eschews 
the anomalous or exceptional, pointing out re- 
peatedly that she would not, if she could, be 
the writer, however brilliant, who dwells by 
preference on the moral or intellectual attri- 
butes which mark off his hero from the crowd 
instead of on those which he has in common 
with average humanity. Nowhere perhaps in 
her works do we find this tendency so strik- 
ingly illustrated as in the one now under con- 
sideration ; for here we have the study of a 
human being who, by stress of circumstances, 
develops into a most abnormal specimen of 
mankind, yet who is brought back to normal 
conditions and to wholesome relations with 
his fellow-men by such a natural process as 
*3 



I 9 4 GEORGE ELIOT. 

the re-awakening of benumbed sympathies 
through his love for the little foundling child./ 
The scene where he finds that child has only- 
been touched on in a passing allusion, yet 
there is no more powerfully drawn situation in 
any of her novels than that where Silas, with 
the child in his arms, goes out into the dark 
night, and, guided by the little footprints in 
the virgin snow, discovers the dead mother, 
Godfrey Cass's opium-eating wife, lying with 
" her head sunk low in the furze and half 
covered with the shaken snow." There is a 
picture of this subject by the young and sin- 
gularly gifted artist, the late Oliver Madox 
Brown, more generally known as a novelist, 
which is one of the few pictorial inter- 
pretations that seem to completely project 
on the canvas a visible embodiment of the 
spirit of the original. The pale, emaciated 
weaver, staring with big, short-sighted eyes 
at the body of the unconscious young woman 
stretched on the ground, clutching the lusty, 
struggling child with one arm, while with the 
other he holds a lantern which throws a feeble 
gleam on the snow — is realized with excep- 
tional intensity. 

The exquisite picture of Eppie's childhood, 
the dance she leads her soft-hearted foster- 
father, are things to read, not to describe, 



SILAS MARNER. 



195 



unless one could quote whole pages of this 
delightful idyl, which for gracious charm and 
limpid purity of description recalls those pearls 
among prose-poems, George Sand's ' Francois 
le Champi ' and ' La Mare au Diable.' 



CHAPTER XI. 

ROMOLA. 

' Romola ' marks a new departure in George 
Eliot's literary career. From the present she 
turned to the past, from the native to the for- 
eign, from the domestic to the historical. Yet 
in thus shifting her subject-matter, she did 
not alter the strongly pronounced tendencies 
underlying her earlier novels ; there was more 
of spontaneous, humorous description of life 
in the latter, whereas in ' Romola ' the ethical 
teaching which forms so prominent a feature 
of George Eliot's art, though the same in 
essence, was more distinctly wrought out. 
Touching on this very point, she observes in 
a letter to an American correspondent : " It 
is perhaps less irrelevant to say, apropos of a 
distinction you seem to make between my 
earlier and later works, that though I trust 
there is some growth in my appreciation of 
others and in my self-distrust, there has been 
no change in the point of view from which I 
regard our life since I wrote my first fiction, 



ROM OLA. 197 

the ' Scenes of Clerical Life.' Any apparent 
change of spirit must be due to something 
of which I am unconscious. The principles 
which are at the root of my effort to paint 
Dinah Morris are equally at the root of my 
effort to paint Mordecai." 

The first section of ' Romola ' appeared in 
the Cornhill Magazine for the summer of 1 862, 
and, running its course in that popular period- 
ical, was finished in the summer of the follow- 
ing year. Mr. Lewes, in a letter writen from 
16 Blandford Square, July 5, 1862, to some 
old friends of George Eliot, makes the follow- 
ing remarks in reference to this new form of 
publication: "My main object in persuading 
her to consent to serial publication was not 
the unheard-of magnificence of the offer, but 
the advantage to such a work of being read 
slowly and deliberately, instead of being gal- 
loped through in three volumes. I think it 
quite unique, and so will the public when it 
gets over the first feeling of surprise and dis- 
appointment at the book not being English, 
and like its predecessor." And some time 
afterwards he wrote to the same friends : 
" Marian lives entirely in the fifteenth cen- 
tury, and is much cheered every now and then 
by hearing indirectly how her book is appre- 
ciated by the higher class of minds, and some 



198 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



of the highest ; though it is not, and cannot 
be popular. In Florence we hear they are 
wild with delight and surprise at such a work 
being executed by a foreigner ; as if an Ital- 
ian had ever done anything of the kind ! " 

Before writing ' Romola ' George Eliot had 
spent five weeks in Florence in order to famil- 
iarize herself with the manners and conver- 
sation of its inhabitants, and yet she hardly 
caught the trick of Italian speech, and for 
some time afterwards she hung back from 
beginning her story, as her characters not 
only refused to speak Italian to her, but would 
not speak at all, as we can well imagine Mrs. 
Poyser, Bartle Massey, and Maggie to have 
done. These recalcitrant spirits were at last 
brought to order, and she succeeded so well, 
especially in her delineation of the lower 
classes, that they have been recognized by 
Italians as true to the life. 

It should, however, be mentioned that the 
greatest modern Italian, Giuseppe Mazzini, 
found fault with the handling, and, indeed, 
with the introduction into this novel of the 
great figure of Savonarola. He considered 
that it compared unfavorably with ' Adam 
Bede,' a novel he genuinely admired, all but 
the marriage of Adam with Dinah Morris, 
which, he said, shocked his feelings, not 



ROM OLA. 



199 



having any conception that the taste of the 
novel-reading public demands a happy ending 
whatever may have been the previous course 
of the three volumes. Another illustrious 
man, D. G. Rossetti, whose judgment on such 
a subject carries peculiar weight, considered 
George Eliot to have been much less success- 
ful in ' Romola ' than in her novels of English 
country life. He did not think that the tone 
and color of Italian life in the fifteenth century 
were caught with that intuitive perception of a 
bygone age characteristic of a Walter Scott or 
a Meinhold. The Florentine contemporaries 
of " Fra Girolamo " seemed to him Nineteenth 
Century men and women dressed up in the 
costume of the Fifteenth. The book, to use 
his expression, was not " native." 

It is a majestic book, however : the most 
grandly planned of George Eliot's novels. It 
has a certain architectural dignity of structure, 
quite in keeping with its Italian nationality, a 
quality, by the way, entirely absent from the 
three later novels. The impressive historical 
background is not unlike one of Mr. Irving's 
magnificently wrought Italian stage-effects, 
rich in movement and color, yet helping to 
throw the chief figures into greater relief. The 
erudition shown in this work ; the vast yet mi- 
nute acquaintance with the habits of thought, 



200 GEORGE ELIOT. 

the manners, the very talk of the Florentines 
of that day are truly surprising ; but perhaps 
the very fact of that erudition being so per- 
ceptible shows that the material has not been 
absolutely vitalized. The amount of labor 
George Eliot expended on ' Romola ' was so 
great, that it was the book which, she re- 
marked to a friend, "she began a young 
woman and ended an old one." The deep 
impression her works had made upon the 
public mind heightened her natural conscien- 
tiousness, and her gratitude for the confidence 
with which each fresh contribution from her 
pen was received, increased her anxiety to 
wield her influence for the highest ends. 

But her gratitude to the public by no means 
extended to the critics. She recoiled from 
them with the instinctive shrinking of the 
sensitive plant. These interpreters between 
author and public were in her eyes a most 
superfluous modern institution : though at 
one time she herself had not scorned to sit 
in the critic's seat. It is well-known that 
G. H. Lewes acted as a kind of moral screen 
protecting her from every gust or breath of 
criticism that was not entirely genial. One 
lady, after reading ' The Mill on the Floss,' 
had written off in the heat of the moment, 
and, with the freedom of old friendship, while 



ROM OLA. 201 

expressing the warmest admiration for the 
beauty of the first two volumes, she had ven- 
tured to find fault with part of the third. 
This letter was returned by Lewes, who 
begged her at the same time never to write 
again in this strain to George Eliot, to whom 
he had not ventured to show it for fear it 
should too painfully affect her. In a letter to 
the American lady already mentioned, George 
Eliot, after referring to this habit of Mr. 
Lewes, says : " In this way I get confirmed 
in my impression that the criticism of any 
new writing is shifting and untrustworthy. 
I hardly think that any critic can have so 
keen a sense of the shortcomings in my 
works as that I groan under in the course 
of writing them, and I cannot imagine any 
edification coming to an author from a sort of 
reviewing which consists in attributing to him 
or her unexpressed opinions, and in imagining 
circumstances which may be alleged as petty 
private motives for the treatment of subjects 
which ought to be of general human interest. 
... I have been led into this rather super- 
fluous sort of remark by the mention of a rule 
which seemed to require explanation." 

And again on another occasion to the same 
effect : " But do not expect criticism from me. 
I hate ' sitting in the seat of judgment,' and I 



202 GEORGE ELIOT. 

would rather impress the public generally with 
the sense that they may get the best result 
from a book without necessarily forming an 
'opinion' about it, than I would rush into 
stating opinions of my own. The floods of 
nonsense printed in the form of critical opin- 
ions seem to me a chief curse of our times — 
a chief obstacle to true culture." 

In spite of these severe strictures on the 
critics and their opinions, an " opinion " must 
now be given about ' Romola.' This novel 
may really be judged from two entirely dif- 
ferent points of view, possibly from others 
besides, but, as it appears to me, from two. 
One may consider it as an historical work, 
with its moving pageants, its civic broils, its 
church festivals, its religious revival, its fickle 
populace, now siding with the Pope, and now 
with the would-be reformer of the Papacy. 
Or again one may regard the conjugal rela- 
tions between Romola and Tito, the slow 
spiritual growth of the one, and the swifter 
moral disintegration of the other, as one 
of the subtlest studies in psychology in lit- 
erature. 

To turn to the scenic details which form 
a considerable element of this historical pic- 
ture, I have already hinted that they are not 
without a taint of cumbrousness and pedan- 



ROMOLA. 



203 



try. The author seems to move somewhat 
heavily under her weight of learning, and we 
miss that splendid natural swiftness and ease 
of movement which Shakespeare, Goethe, and 
Hugo know how to impart to their crowds 
and spectacular effects. If, instead of the 
people, one examines the man who dominated 
the people, the large, massive, imposing figure 
of Savonarola, one must admit that the char- 
acter is very powerfully and faithfully executed 
but not produced at one throw. He does not 
take the imagination by storm as he would 
have done had Carlyle been at his fashioning. 
With an epithet or two, with a sharp, incisive 
phrase, the latter would have conjured the 
great Dominican from his grave, and we 
should have seen him, or believed at least 
that we saw him, as he was in the flesh when 
his impassioned voice resounded through the 
Duomo, swaying the hearts of the Florentine 
people with the force of a great conviction. 
That he stands out thus tangibly in ' Romola' 
it would be futile to assert : nevertheless, he 
is a noble, powerful study, although one has 
laboriously to gather into one's mind the 
somewhat mechanical descriptions which help 
to portray his individuality. The idea under- 
lying the working out of this grand character 
is the same which Goethe had once proposed 



204 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



to himself in his projected, but unfortunately 
never executed, drama of ' Mahomet.' It is 
that of a man of moral genius, who, in soli- 
tude and obscurity, has conceived some new, 
profounder aspect of religious truth, and who, 
stirred by a sublime devotion, now goes forth 
among men to bless and regenerate them by 
teaching them this higher life. But in his 
contact with the multitude, in his efforts at 
influencing it, the prophet or preacher is in 
his turn influenced. If he fails to move by 
the loftiest means, he will gradually resort to 
the lower in order to effect his purpose. The 
purity of his spirit is tarnished, ambition has 
crept in where holiness reigned, and his per- 
fect rectitude of purpose will be sacrificed so 
that he may but rule. 

Such are the opposing tendencies co-exist- 
ing in Savonarola's mixed but lofty nature. 
For " that dissidence between inward reality 
and outward seeming was not the Christian 
simplicity after which he had striven through 
years of his youth and prime, and which he 
had preached as a chief fruit of the Divine 
life. In the heat and stress of the day, with 
cheeks burning, with shouts ringing in the 
ears, who is so blest as to remember the yearn- 
ings he had in the cool and silent morning, 
and know that he has not belied them ? " 



ROMOLA. 205 

And again : " It was the habit of Savonarola's 
mind to conceive great things, and to feel 
that he was the man to do them. Iniquity- 
should be brought low ; the cause of justice, 
purity, and love should triumph, and it should 
triumph by his voice, by his work, by his 
blood. In moments of ecstatic contempla- 
tion, doubtless, the sense of self melted in the 
sense of the Unspeakable, and in that part of 
his experience lay the elements of genuine 
self-abasement ; but in the presence of his 
fellow-men for whom he was to act, pre- 
eminence seemed a necessary condition of 
life." But, as George Eliot says, " Power rose 
against him, not because of his sins, but be- 
cause of his greatness ; not because he sought 
to deceive the world, but because he sought 
to make it noble. And through that great- 
ness of his he endured a double agony ;. not 
only the reviling, and the torture, and the 
death-throe, but the agony of sinking from 
the vision of glorious achievement into that 
deep shadow where he could only say, ' I 
count as nothing : darkness encompasses me ; 
yet the light I saw was the true light.' " 

But after all, in George Eliot's story the 
chief interest attaching to " Fra Girolamo " 
consists in his influence on Romola's spiritual 
growth. This may possibly be a blemish ; 



206 GEORGE ELIOT. 

yet in most novels the fictitious characters 
eclipse the historical ones. The effect pro- 
duced by the high-souled Romola is not unlike 
that of an antique statue, at once splendidly 
beautiful and imposingly cold. By the side 
of Tito she reminds one of the pure white- 
ness of marble sculpture as contrasted with 
the rich glowing sensuousness of a Venetian 
picture. 

It is difficult to analyze why the proud, 
loving, single-hearted Romola, who has some- 
thing of the fierceness and impetuosity of 
the old " Bardo blood " in her, should leave 
this impression of coldness ; for in spite of 
her acts of magnanimity and self-devotion, 
such, curiously enough, is the case. Perhaps 
in this instance George Eliot modelled the 
character too much according to a philosoph- 
ical conception instead of projecting it, com- 
plete in its incompleteness, as it might have 
come from the hand of Nature. Another 
objection sometimes brought forward, of 
Romola having but little resemblance to an 
Italian woman of the fifteenth century, seems 
to me less relevant. The lofty dignity, the 
pride, the intense adhesion to family tradi- 
tions, were, on the contrary, very marked 
attributes of a high national type during the 
period of Italian supremacy. In fact, the 



ROMOLA. 



207 



character is not without hints and sugges- 
tions of such a woman as Vittoria Colonna, 
while its didactic tendency slightly recalls 
" those awful women of Italy who held pro- 
fessorial chairs, and were great in civil and 
canon law." In one sense Romola is a true 
child of the Renaissance. Brought up by 
her father, the enthusiastic old scholar, in 
pagan ideas, she had remained aloof from 
Roman Catholic beliefs and superstitions, 
and even when transformed by the mighty 
influence of Savonarola into a devoted Pi- 
agnone, her attitude always remains more or 
less that of a Protestant, unwilling to sur- 
render the right of private judgment to the 
Church. 

The clash of character when a woman like 
Romola finds herself chained in a life-long 
bond to such a nature as Tito's — the beau- 
tiful, wily, insinuating Greek — is wrought 
out with wonderful skill and matchless sub- 
tlety of analysis. Indeed Tito is not only 
one of George Eliot's most original creations, 
he is a unique character in fiction. Novel- 
ists, as a rule, only depict the full-blown 
villain or traitor, their virtuous and wicked 
people being separated from each other by 
a hard and fast line much like the goats 
and sheep. They continually treat character 



2o8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

as something permanent and unchangeable, 
whereas to George Eliot it presents itself as 
an organism flexible by nature, subject to 
change under varying conditions, liable on 
the one hand to disease and deterioration, but 
on the other hand no less capable of being 
rehabilitated, refined, or ennobled. This is 
one of the most distinctive notes of George 
Eliot's art, and gives a quickening, fructify- 
ing quality to her moral teaching. But it is 
an artistic no less than a moral gain, shar- 
pening the interest felt in the evolution of her 
fictitious personages. For this reason Tito, 
the creature of circumstances, is perhaps the 
most striking of all her characters in the eyes 
of the psychologist. We seem to see the very 
pulse of the human machine laid bare, to see 
the corroding effect of self-indulgence and 
dread of pain on a nature not intrinsically 
wicked, to see at last how, little by little, 
weakness has led to falsehood, and falsehood 
to infamy. And yet this creature, who, under 
our eyes, gradually hardens into crime, is one 
so richly dowered with rare gifts of person 
and mind, that in spite of his moral degen- 
eracy, he fascinates the reader no less than 
the men and women supposed to come into 
actual contact with him. His beauty is de- 
scribed with the same life-like intensity as 



ROM OLA. 



209 



Hetty's : the warm glow of color in his per- 
fectly moulded face, with its dark curls and 
long agate-like eyes ; his sunny brightness 
of look, the velvet softness of a manner with 
which he ingratiates himself with young and 
old, and the airy buoyancy of his whole gra- 
cious being, are as vividly portrayed as the 
quick talent to which everything comes natu- 
ral, the abundant good-humor, the acuteness 
of a polished intellect, whose sharp edge will, 
at need, cut relentlessly through every tissue 
of sentiment. 

From Melema's first uneasy debate with 
himself, when, in his splendid, unsoiled youth, 
he enters Florence a shipwrecked stranger — 
a debate, that is, as to whether he is bound 
to go in search of Baldassare, who has been 
as a father to him — to the moment when his 
already blunted conscience absolves him from 
such a search, and again, on to that supreme 
crisis when, suddenly face to face with his 
benefactor, he denies him, and so is inevitably 
urged from one act of baseness and cruelty 
to another still blacker — we have unfolded 
before us, by an unshrinking analyzer of 
human nature, what might not inappropri- 
ately be called "A Soul's Tragedy." The 
wonderful art in the working out of this 
character is shown in the fact that one has 
14 



2io GEORGE ELIOT. 

no positive impression of Tito's innate bad- 
ness, but, on the contrary, feels as if, after his 
first lapses from truth and goodness, there is 
still a possibility of his reforming, if only his 
soft, pleasure-loving nature were not driven 
on, almost in spite of himself, by his shudder- 
ing dread of shame or suffering in any form. 
" For," writes George Eliot, " Tito was expe- 
riencing that inexorable law of human souls, 
that we prepare ourselves for sudden deeds 
by the reiterated choice of good or evil which 
gradually determines character." 

The description of the married life of 
Romola and Tito is unsurpassed in George 
Eliot's novels for subtlety and depth of insight : 
notably the young wife's fond striving after 
complete inner harmony, her first, faint, un- 
avowed sense of something wanting, her in- 
stinctive efforts to keep fast hold of her love 
and trust, and her violent, irrevocable recoil 
on the discovery of Tito's first faithless ac- 
tion. Perhaps there is something cold, almost 
stern, in Romola's loathing alienation from 
her husband, and the instantaneous death of 
her passionate love. One cannot quite hinder 
the impression that a softer woman might 
have forgiven and won from him a confession 
of his wrong-doing ; a confession which would 
have averted the committal of his worst and 



ROMOLA. 2 1 1 

basest deeds. Indeed, it is Tito's awe of his 
grand, noble wife, and his dread of her judg- 
ment, which first of all incite him to pre- 
varication and lies. 

It is curious to compare George Sand's 
theory of love, in this instance, with George 
Eliot's. In ' Leon Leoni,' and in many of 
her novels besides, the Frenchwoman seems 
to imply that for a woman to love once is to 
love always, and that there is nothing so base, 
or mean, or cruel, but she will forgive the 
man on whom she has placed her affections. 
In the story mentioned above she has worked 
out this idea to an extent which, in many 
of its details, is simply revolting. Love is 
there described as a magnetic attraction, un- 
resisted and irresistible, to which the heroine 
absolutely surrenders pride, reason, and con- 
science. Just the opposite kind of love is 
that which we find portrayed in 'Romola:' 
it is a love identical with the fullest belief in 
the truth and goodness of the beloved object, 
so that at the first realization of moral ob- 
liquity the repulsion created extinguishes that 
love, although there is no outward severance 
of the marriage bond. 

This great novel closes with these signifi- 
cant words, which Romola addresses to Lillo, 
Tito's child, but not her own : 



212 GEORGE ELIOT. 

" And so, my Lillo, if you mean to act nobly, 
and seek to know the best things God has 
put within reach of man, you must learn to 
fix your mind on that end, and not on what 
will happen to you because of it. And re- 
member, if you were to choose something 
lower, and make it the rule of your life to 
seek your own pleasure and escape from what 
is disagreeable, calamity might come just the 
same ; and it would be calamity falling on a 
base mind, which is the one form of sorrow 
that has no balm in it, and that may well make 
a man say, ' It would have been better for me 
if I had never been born ! ' " 



CHAPTER XII. 

HER POEMS. 

Few are the external events to be now re- 
corded of George Eliot's life. The publi- 
cation of her successive works forms the 
chief landmarks. But the year 1865 is dis- 
tinguished by circumstances of some impor- 
tance. In this year Mr. Lewes, after assisting 
to found the Fortnightly Review, assumed its 
editorship ; and among the contributions to 
the first number of the new Review was a 
short article from the pen of George Eliot on 
Mr. Lecky's important work ' The Influence 
of Rationalism.' 

It was on November 5, 1863, that Mr. and 
Mrs. Lewes moved from 16 Blandford Square 
to the Priory, a commodious house in North 
Bank, Regent's Park, which has come to 
be intimately associated with the memory of 
George Eliot. Here, in the pleasant dwelling- 
rooms decorated by Owen Jones, might be 
met, at her Sunday afternoon receptions, some 
of the most eminent men in literature, art, 



214 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



and science. For the rest, her life flowed on 
its even tenor, its routine being rigidly regu- 
lated. The morning till lunch time was in- 
variably devoted to writing : in the afternoon 
she either went out for a quiet drive of about 
two hours, or she took a walk with Lewes in 
Regent's Park. There the strange-looking 
couple — she with a certain weird, sibylline 
air, he not unlike some unkempt Polish refu- 
gee of vivacious manners — might be seen, 
swinging their arms, as they hurried along at 
a pace as rapid and eager as their talk. Be- 
sides these walks, George Eliot's chief recrea- 
tion consisted in frequenting concerts and 
picture galleries. To music she was passion- 
ately devoted, hardly ever failing to attend at 
the Saturday afternoon concerts at St. James's 
Hall, besides frequenting various musical re- 
unions, such as the following extract from one 
of her letters will show : " The other night 
we went to hear the Bach choir — a society of 
ladies and gentlemen got together by Jenny 
Lind, who sings in the middle of them, her 
husband acting as conductor. It is pretty to 
see people who might be nothing but simply 
fashionables taking pains to sing fine music 
in tune and time, with more or less success. 

One of the baritones we know is a G , 

who used to be a swell guardsman, and has 



HER POEMS. 



215 



happily taken to good courses while still 
quite young. Another is a handsome young 

G , not of the unsatisfactory Co., but of 

the R G kin. A soprano is Mrs. 

P , wife of the Queen's Secretary, General 

P , the granddaughter of Earl Grey, and 

just like him in the face — and so on. These 
people of ' high ' birth are certainly reforming 
themselves a little." 

She likewise never omitted to visit the 
" Exhibition of Old Masters " at Burlington 
House. To most people few things exercise 
so great a strain on their mental and physical 
powers of endurance as the inspection of a 
picture gallery, with its incessant appeal to 
the most concentrated attention. Yet, in 
spite of physical weakness, George Eliot 
possessed such inexhaustible mental energy 
that she could go on, hour after hour, looking 
with the same unflagging interest at whatever 
possessed any claim to attention, tiring out 
even vigorous men that were in her company. 
In her works the allusions to art are much 
less frequent than to music ; but from a few 
hints here and there, it is possible to form 
some idea of her taste, one very significant 
passage in ' Adam Bede ' showing her peculiar 
love of Dutch paintings, and her readiness to 
turn without shrinking " from cloud-borne an- 



2i6 GEORGE ELIOT. 

gels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, 
to an old woman bending over her flower- 
pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the 
noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen 
of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just 
touches the rim of her spinning-wheel and 
her stone jug, and all those cheap common 
things which are the precious necessaries of 
life to her." 

Another favorite resort of George Eliot's 
was the Zoological Gardens. She went there 
a great deal to study the animals, and was 
particularly fond of the " poor dear ratel " 
that used to turn somersaults. In fact her 
knowledge of, and sympathy with, animals 
was as remarkable as that which she showed 
for human nature. Thus she astonished a 
gentleman farmer by drawing attention to 
the fine points of his horses. Her intimate 
acquaintance with the dog comes out in a 
thousand touches in her novels, and her hu- 
morous appreciation of little pigs led her to 
watch them attentively, and to pick out some 
particular favorite in every litter. In her 
country rambles, too, she was fond of turning 
over stones to inspect the minute insect life 
teeming in moist, dark places ; and she was 
as interested as Lewes himself in the crea- 
tures, frogs, etc., he kept for scientific pur- 



HER POEMS. 



217 



poses, and which would sometimes, like the 
frog in the fairy tale, surprise the household by 
suddenly making their entrance into the din- 
ing-room. Her liking for the " poor brutes," 
as she calls them, had its origin no doubt in 
the same source of profound pity which she 
feels for *' the twists and cracks " of imper- 
fect human beings. 

Her evenings were usually passed at home, 
and spent in reading, or in playing and sing- 
ing ; but she and Lewes used to go to the 
theatre on any occasion of special interest, as 
when Salvini appeared in ' Othello,' a per- 
formance attended repeatedly by both with 
enthusiastic delight. Otherwise they rarely 
left home, seldom visiting at other people's 
houses, although they made an exception in 
the case of a favored few. 

They were both fond of travelling, and, 
whenever it was possible, would take trips to 
the Continent, or seek some quiet English 
rural retreat away from the sleepless tumult 
of London. " For," says Lewes incidentally 
in a letter, " Mrs. Lewes never seems at home 
except under a broad sweep of sky and the 
greenth of the uplands round her." So we 
find them frequently contriving a change of 
scene ; and the visits to foreign countries, 
the pleasant sauntering on long summer days 



2i8 GEORGE ELIOT. 

through Continental towns, " dozing round 
old cathedrals," formed delightful episodes in 
George Eliot's strenuously active life. The 
residence in Germany in 1854, and again in 
1858, has already been alluded to. Now, in 
the year 1865, they paid a short visit to 
France, in the course of which they saw 
Normandy, Brittany, and Touraine, returning 
much refreshed at the beginning of the au- 
tumn. Two years afterwards they went to 
Spain, a country that must have possessed a 
peculiar interest for both ; for in 1846 Lewes 
had published a charming, if one-sided, little 
book on ' The Spanish Drama,' with especial 
reference to Lope de Vega and Calderon ; and 
in 1864, only a year after the appearance of 
' Romola,' George Eliot produced the first 
draught of ' The Spanish Gypsy.' On be- 
coming personally acquainted with this land 
of " old romance," however, her impressions 
were so far modified and deepened that she 
re-wrote and amplified her poem, which was 
not published till 1868. 

The subject of the gypsies was probably 
suggested to George Eliot by her own mem- 
orable adventure in childhood, which thus be- 
came the germ of a very impressive poem. Be 
that as it may, it is worth noticing that the 
conception of ' The Spanish Gypsy ' should 



HER POEMS. 



219 



have followed so closely on the completion 
of the Italian novel, both being foreign sub- 
jects, belonging to much the same period of 
history. In both the novelist has departed 
from her habitual track, seeking for " pas- 
tures new" in a foreign soil. After incul- 
cating on the artist the desirability of giving 
" the loving pains of a life to the faithful 
representation of commonplace things," she 
remarks in ' Adam Bede ' that " there are few 
prophets in the world, few sublimely beauti- 
ful women, few heroes," and that we cannot 
afford to give all our love and reverence to 
such rarities. But having followed this rule, 
and given the most marvellously truthful de- 
lineations of her fellow-men as they are or- 
dinarily to be met with, she now also felt 
prompted to draw the exceptional types of 
human character, the rare prophets, and the 
sublime heroes. 

To her friend Miss Simcox, George Eliot 
one day mentioned a plan of giving "the 
world an ideal portrait of an actual character 
in history, whom she did not name, but to 
whom she alluded as an object of possible 
reverence unmingled with disappointment." 
This idea was never carried out, but at any 
rate Dinah Morris, Savonarola, Zarca, and 
Mordecai are all exceptional beings — be- 



220 GEORGE ELIOT. 

ings engrossed by an impersonal aim, hav- 
ing the spiritual or national regeneration of 
their fellow-men for its object. Dinah and 
Savonarola are more of the nature of proph- 
ets ; Zarca and Mordecai of that of patriots. 
Among these the fair Methodist preacher, 
whose yearning piety is only a more subli- 
mated love of her kind, is the most vividly re- 
alized ; while Mordecai, the patriot of an ideal 
country, is but the abstraction of a man, en- 
tirely wanting in that indefinable solidity of 
presentation which gives a life of its own to 
the creations of art. 

On the whole, Zarca, the gypsy chief, is 
perhaps the most vividly drawn of George 
Eliot's purely ideal characters — characters 
which never have the flesh-and-blood reality 
of her Mrs. Poysers, her Silas Marners, and 
her dear little Totties and Eppies. Yet there 
is an unmistakable grandeur and power of in- 
vention in the heroic figure of Zarca, although, 
in spite of this power, we miss the convincing 
stamp of reality in him, and not only in him, 
but more or less in all the characters of ' The 
Spanish Gypsy.' George Eliot's feeling for 
the extraordinary and romantic was very sub- 
ordinate to that which she entertained for 
the more familiar aspects of our life. For, 
although she here chose one of the most 



HER POEMS. 221 

romantic of periods and localities, the Spain 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, with the mingled 
-horror and magnificence of its national tra- 
ditions, she does not really succeed in resusci- 
tating the spirit which animated those devout, 
cruel, fanatical, but ultra-picturesque times. 
The Castilian noble, the Jewish astrologer, 
Zarca, and the Spanish Inquisitor, even the 
bright, gloriously conceived Fedalma herself, 
think and speak too much like sublimated 
modern positivists. For example, would, 
could, or should any gypsy of the fifteenth 
century have expressed himself in the fol- 
lowing terms : 

" Oh, it is a faith 
Taught by no priest, but by this beating heart : 
Faith to each other : the fidelity 
Of fellow-wanderers in a desert place, 
Who share the same dire thirst, and therefore share 
The scanty water : the fidelity 
Of men whose pulses leap with kindred fire, 
Who in the flash of eyes, the clasp of hands, 
The speech that even in lying tells the truth 
Of heritage inevitable as birth, 
Nay, in the silent bodily presence feel 
The mystic stirring of a common life 
Which makes the many one : fidelity 
To the consecrating oath our sponsor Fate 
Made through our infant breath when we were born 
The fellow-heirs of that small island, Life, 
Where we must dig and sow and reap with brothers. 
Fear thou that oath, my daughter — nay, not fear, 
But love it ; for the sanctity of oaths 



222 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Lies not in lightning that avenges them, 
But in the injury wrought by broken bonds 
And in the garnered good of human trust." 

The poetic mode of treatment corresponds to 
the exalted theme of ' The Spanish Gypsy,' 
a subject certainly fitted for drama or ro- 
mance rather than for the novel, properly so 
called. Nothing could apparently be better 
adapted for the purposes of a noble historical 
poem than the conception of a great man 
such as Zarca, whose aim is nothing less than 
the fusion of the scattered, wandering, lawless 
gypsy tribes into one nation, with common 
traditions and a common country: the roman- 
tic incident of the discovery of his lost daugh- 
ter in the affianced bride of Silva, Duke of 
Bedmar : the supreme conflict in Fedalma's 
breast between love and duty, her renuncia- 
tion of happiness in order to cast in her lot 
with that of her outcast people : Silva's fran- 
tic grief, his desertion of his country, his re- 
ligion, and all his solemn responsibilities to 
turn gypsy for Fedalma's sake, and having 
done so, his agony of remorse on seeing the 
fortress committed to his trust taken by the 
gypsies he has joined, his dearest friends 
massacred, his nearest of kin, Isidor, the in- 
quisitor, hanged before his very eyes, a sight 
so maddening that, hardly conscious of his 



HER POEMS. 



22$ 



act, he slays Zarca, and so divides himself for- 
ever, by an impassable gulf, from the woman 
for whose sake he had turned apostate. 

Clearly a subject containing the highest ca- 
pabilities, and, if great thoughts constituted 
a great poem, this should be one of the great- 
est. But with all its high merits, its senti- 
ments imbued with rare moral grandeur, its 
felicitous descriptions, the work lacks that 
best and incommunicable gift which comes 
by nature to the poet. Here, as in her nov- 
els, we find George Eliot's instinctive insight 
into the primary passions of the human heart, 
her wide sympathy and piercing keenness of 
vision ; but her thoughts, instead of being 
naturally winged with melody, seem mechani- 
cally welded into song. This applies to all 
her poetic work, although some of it, espe- 
cially ' The Legend of Jubal,' reaches a much 
higher degree of metrical and rhythmical ex- 
cellence. But although George Eliot's poems' 
cannot be considered on a par with her prose, 
they possess a distinctive interest, and should 
be carefully studied by all lovers of her gen- 
ius, as affording a more intimate insight into 
the working of her own mind. Nowhere do 
we perceive so clearly as here the profound 
sadness of her view of life ; nowhere does she 
so emphatically reiterate the stern lesson of 



224 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



the duty of resignation and self-sacrifice; or 
that other doctrine that the individual is bound 
absolutely to subordinate his personal happi- 
ness to the social good, that he has no rights 
save the right of fulfilling his obligations to 
his age, his country, and his family. This 
idea is perhaps more completely incorporated 
in Fedalma than in any other of her charac- 
ters — Fedalma, who seems so bountifully en- 
dowed with the fullest measure of beauty, love, 
and happiness, that her renunciation may be 
the more absolute. She who in her young 
joy suddenly knows herself as " an aged sor- 
row," exclaiming : 

" I will not take a heaven 
Haunted by shrieks of far-off misery. 
This deed and I have ripened with the hours : 
It is a part of me — a wakened thought 
That, rising like a giant, masters me, 
And grows into a doom. O mother life, 
That seemed to nourish me so tenderly, 
Even in the womb you vowed me to the fire, 
Hung on my soul the burden of men's hopes, 
And pledged me to redeem 1 — I'll pay the debt. 
You gave me strength that I should pour it all 
Into this anguish. I can never shrink 
Back into bliss — my heart has grown too big 
With things that might be." 

This sacrifice is the completer for being with- 
out hope ; for not counting " on aught but 
being faithful ; " for resting satisfied in such 
a sublime conviction as — 



HER POEMS. 

" The grandest death, to die in vain — for love 
Greater than sways the forces of the world." 



225 



Limit forbids me dwell longer on this poem, 
which contains infinite matter for discussion, 
yet some of the single passages are so full 
of fine thoughts felicitously expressed that it 
would be unfair not to allude to them. Such 
a specimen as this exposition of the eternal 
dualism between the Hellenic and the Chris- 
tian ideals, of which Heine was the original 
and incomparable expounder, should not be 
left unnoted : 

" Forevermore 
With grander resurrection than was feigned 
Of Attila's fierce Huns, the soul of Greece 
Conquers the bulk of Persia. The maimed form 
Of calmly joyous beauty, marble-limbed, 
Yet breathing with the thought that shaped its limbs, 
Looks mild reproach from out its opened grave 
At creeds of terror ; and the vine-wreathed god 
Fronts the pierced Image with the crown of thorns." 

And again how full of deep mysterious sug- 
gestion is this line — 

" Speech is but broken light upon the depth 
Of the unspoken." 

And this grand saying — 

" What times are little ? To the sentinel 
That hour is regal when he mounts on guard." 

Quotations of this kind might be indefinitely 
multiplied ; while showing that exaltation of 
15 







226 GEORGE ELIOT. 

thought properly belonging to poetry, they at 
the same time indubitably prove to the deli- 
cately attuned ear the absence of that subtle 
intuitive music, that " linked sweetness " of 
sound and sense which is the birthright of 
poets. If an intimate and profound acquaint- 
ance with the laws and structure of metre 
could bestow this quality, which appertain to 
the elemental, George Eliot's verse ought to 
have achieved the highest success. For in 
mere technical knowledge concerning rhyme, 
assonance, alliteration, and the manipulation 
of blank verse according to the most cunning 
distribution of pauses, she could hold her own 
with the foremost contemporary poets, being 
no doubt far more versed than either Shel- 
ley or Byron in the laws governing these 
matters. 

How incalculable she felt the poet's influ- 
ence to be, and how fain she would have had 
him wield this influence only for the loftiest 
ends, is well shown in a beautiful letter, 
hitherto unpublished, now possessing an added 
pathos as addressed to one who has but 
lately departed, at the very time when his 
rare poetic gifts were beginning to be more 
widely recognized. James Thomson, the 
author of " The City of Dreadful Night," a 
poem which appeared first in the pages of 



HER POEMS. 227 

the National Reformer, with the signature 
of " B. V.," was thus addressed by George 
Eliot : 

"Dear Poet, — I cannot rest satisfied 
without telling you that my mind responds 
with admiration to the distinct vision and 
grand utterance in the poem which you have 
been so good as to send me. 

" Also, I trust that an intellect informed 
by so much passionate energy as yours will 
soon give us more heroic strains, with a wider 
embrace of human fellowship, such as will be 
to the laborers of the world what the Odes 
of Tyrtaeus were to the Spartans, thrilling 
th'em with the sublimity of the social order 
and the courage of resistance to all that 
would dissolve it. To accept life and write 
much fine poetry, is to take a very large share 
in the quantum of human good, and seems 
to draw with it necessarily some recognition, 
affectionate, and even joyful, of the manifold 
willing labors which have made such a lot 
possible." 

These words are of peculiar interest, be- 
cause, although the writer of them is almost 
as much of a pessimist as its recipient, they 
are so with a difference. The pessimism of 
" The City of Dreadful Night," in its blank 
hopelessness, paralyzes the inmost nerve of 



228 GEORGE ELIOT. 

life by isolating the individual in cold ob- 
struction. Whereas George Eliot, while rec- 
ognizing to the utmost "the burthen of a 
world, where even the sunshine has a heart 
of care," insists the more on the fact that 
this common suffering binds man more indis- 
solubly to man ; that so far from justifying 
him in ending his life "when he will," the 
groaning and travailing generations exact that 
he should stand firm at his post, regardless 
of personal consideration or requital, so long 
only as he can help towards making the fate 
of his fellow-mortals less heavy for them to 
bear. In fact, the one is a theory of life, the 
other a disease of the soul. 

The same stoic view, in a different form, 
finds expression in this answer to a dear 
friend's query : " I cannot quite agree that it 
is hard to see what has been the good of your 
life. It seems to me very clear that you have 
been a good of a kind that would have been 
sorely missed by those who have been nearest 
to you, and also by some who are more dis- 
tant. And it is this kind of good which must 
reconcile us to life, and not any answer to 
the question, ' What would the universe have 
been without me ? ' The point one has to 
care for is, ' Are A, B, and C the better for 
me ? ' And there are several letters of the 



HER POEMS. 



229 



alphabet that could not have easily spared 
you in the past, and that can still less spare 
you in the present." 

This lesson of resignation, which is en- 
forced more and more stringently in her 
writings, is again dwelt upon with peculiar 
emphasis in the interesting dramatic sketch 
entitled • Armgart.' The problem here is not 
unlike that in ' Silas Marner.' It is that of 
an individual, in exceptional circumstances, 
brought back to the average condition of 
humanity ; but whereas Silas, having sunk 
below the common standard, is once more 
united to his fellow-men by love, the magnifi- 
cently endowed Armgart, who seems some- 
thing apart and above the crowd, is reduced 
to the level of the undistinguished million 
by the loss of her peerless voice. ' Armgart' 
is the single instance, excepting, perhaps, the 
Princess Halm-Eberstein, where George Eliot 
has attempted to depict the woman-artist, to 
whom life's highest object consists in fame — 

" The benignant strength of one, transformed 
To joy of many." 

But in the intoxicating flush of success, the 
singer, who has refused the love of one for 
that " sense transcendent which can taste the 
joy of swaying multitudes," loses her glorious 
gift, and so sinks irretrievably to a " drudge 



230 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



among the crowd." In the first delirium of 
despair she longs to put an end to herself, 
"sooner than bear the yoke of thwarted life;" 
but is painfully startled from her defiant mood 
by the indignant query of Walpurga, her 
humble cousin — 

" Where is the rebel's right for you alone ? 
Noble rebellion lifts a common load ; 
But what is he who flings his own load off 
And leaves his fellows toiling ? Rebel's right ? 
Say rather the deserter's. Oh, you smiled 
From your clear height on all the million lots 
Which yet you brand as abject." 

It may seem singular that having once, in 
'Armgart,' drawn a woman of the highest 
artistic aims and ambitions, George Eliot 
should imply that what is most valuable in 
her is not the exceptional gift, but rather that 
part of her nature which she shares with 
ordinary humanity. This is, however, one 
of her leading beliefs, and strongly contrasts 
her, as a teacher, with Carlyle. To the 
author of ' Hero Worship ' the promiscuous 
mass — moiling and toiling as factory hands 
and artisans, as miners and laborers — only 
represents so much raw material, from which 
is produced that final result and last triumph 
of the combination of human forces — the 
great statesman, great warrior, great poet, 
and so forth. To George Eliot, on the con- 



HER POEMS. 



231 



trary — and this is the democratic side of her 
nature — it is the multitude, so charily treated 
by destiny, which claims deepest sympathy 
and tenderest compassion ; so that all great- 
ness, in her eyes, is not a privilege, but a 
debt, which entails on its possessor a more 
strenuous effort, a completer devotion to the 
service of average humanity. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

FELIX HOLT AND MIDDLEMARCH. 

In 'Felix Holt,' which was published in 1866, 
George Eliot returned once more to her own 
peculiar field, where she stands supreme and 
unrivalled — the novel of English provincial 
life. This work, which, however, is not equal 
to her earlier or later fictions, yet possesses a 
double interest for us. It is the only one of 
her writings from which its author's political 
views may be inferred, if we exclude a paper 
published in Blackwood 's Magazine in Jan- 
uary 1868, which, indeed, seems to be part of 
the novel, seeing that it is entitled " Address 
to Working Men, by Felix Holt." The pa- 
per contains, in a more direct and concise 
form, precisely the same general views as 
regards the principles of government which 
were previously enunciated through Felix the 
Radical. It was an appeal to the operative 
classes who had been only recently enfran- 
chised by the Reform Bill. Its advice is 
mainly to the effect that genuine political 



FELIX HOLT. 



233 



and social improvements to be durable must 
be the result of inward change rather than of 
outward legislation. The writer insists on 
the futility of the belief that beneficial polit- 
ical changes can be effected by revolutionary 
measures. She points out the necessity of a 
just discrimination between what is curable 
in the body politic and what has to be en- 
dured. She dwells once again, with solemn 
insistence, on the " aged sorrow," the inheri- 
tance of evil transmitted from generation to 
generation, an evil too intimately entwined 
with the complex conditions of society to be 
violently uprooted, but only to be gradually 
eradicated by the persistent cultivation of 
knowledge, industry, judgment, sobriety, and 
patience. 

" This is only one example," she says, " of 
the law by which human lives are linked to- 
gether ; another example of what we com- 
plain of when we point to our pauperism, to 
the brutal ignorance of multitudes among our 
fellow-countrymen, to the weight of taxation 
laid on us by blamable wars, to the wasteful 
channels made for the public money, to the 
expense and trouble of getting justice, and 
call these the effects of bad rule. This is the 
law that we all bear the yoke of ; the law of 
no man's making, and which no man can 



234 GEORGE ELIOT. 

undo. Everybody now sees an example of it 
in the case of Ireland. We who are living 
now are sufferers by the wrong-doing of those 
who lived before us ; we are sufferers by each 
other's wrong-doing; and the children who 
come after us will be sufferers from the same 
causes." 

To remedy this long-standing wrong-doing 
and suffering, so argues Felix Holt, is not in 
the power of any one measure, class, or pe- 
riod. It would be childish folly to expect any 
Reform Bill to possess the magical property 
whereby a sudden social transformation could 
be accomplished. On the contrary, abrupt 
transitions should be shunned as dangerous to 
order and law, which alone are certain to in- 
sure a steady collective progress ; the only 
means to this end consisting in the general 
spread of education, to secure which, at least 
for his children, the working man should 
spare no pains. Without knowledge, the 
writer continues, no political measures will be 
of any benefit, ignorance with or without vote 
always of necessity engendering vice and mis- 
ery. But, guided by a fuller knowledge, the 
working classes would be able to discern what 
sort of men they should choose for their rep- 
resentatives, and instead of electing "plat- 
form swaggerers, who bring us nothing but 



FELIX HOLT. 



235 



the ocean to make our broth with," they 
would confide the chief power to the hands 
of the truly wise, those who know how to 
regulate life " according to the truest princi- 
ples mankind is in possession of." 

The " Felix Holt" of the story is described 
by George Eliot as shaping his actions much 
according to the ideas which are here theoret- 
ically expressed. His knowledge and apti- 
tude would enable him to choose what is 
considered a higher calling. But he scorns 
the vulgar ambition called " getting on in the 
world ; " his sense of fellowship prompting 
him to remain a simple artisan that he may 
exert an elevating influence on the class to 
which he belongs. Class differences, so ar- 
gues this Radical-Conservative, being inher- 
ent in the constitution of society, it becomes 
something of a desertion to withdraw what 
abilities one may have from the medium 
where they are urgently needed, in order to 
join, for the sake of selfish aims, some other 
body of men where they may be superfluous. 

The other distinctive feature of 'Felix Holt' 
consists in its elaborate construction, ranking 
it, so to speak, amongst sensation novels. As a 
rule, George Eliot's stories have little or no plot, 
the incidents seeming not so much invented 
by the writer for the sake of producing an 



236 GEORGE ELIOT. 

effective work, as to be the natural result of the 
friction between character and circumstance. 
This simplicity of narrative belongs, no doubt, 
to the highest class of novel, the class to 
which ' The Vicar of Wakefield,' ' Waverley,' 
and ' Vanity Fair ' belong. In ' Felix Holt,' 
however, the intricate network of incident in 
which the characters seem to be enmeshed, 
is not unlike the modern French art of story- 
telling, with its fertility of invention, as is also 
the strangely repellent intrigue which forms 
the nucleus of the whole. All the elements 
which go to make up a thrilling narrative — 
such as a dubious inheritance, the disappear- 
ance of the rightful claimant, a wife's guilty 
secret, the involvements of the most desperate 
human fates in a perplexing coil through sin 
and error — are interwoven in this story of 
' Felix Holt the Radical' 

Though ingeniously invented, the different 
incidents seem not so much naturally to have 
grown the one from the other as to be con- 
structed with too conscious a seeking for 
effect. There is something forced, uneasy, 
and inadequate in the laborious contrivance of 
fitting one set of events on to another, and 
the machinery of the disputed Transome 
claim is so involved that the reader never 
masters the " ins " and " outs " of that baf- 



FELIX HOLT. 



237 



fling mystery. Still, the groundwork of the 
story is deeply impressive : its interest is, 
notwithstanding the complex ramification of 
events, concentrated with much power upon 
a small group of personages, such as Mrs. 
Transome, her son Harold, the little dissent- 
ing minister, Rufus Lyon, Esther, and Felix 
Holt. Here, as elsewhere, the novelist reveals 
the potent qualities of her genius. Not only 
does this story contain such genuine humorous 
portraiture as the lachrymose Mrs. Holt, and 
the delightfully quaint Job Tudge, but it is 
also enriched by some descriptions of rural 
scenery and of homely existence in remote 
country districts as admirable as any to be 
found in her writings. Rufus Lyon is a 
worthy addition to that long gallery of cleri- 
cal portraits which are among the triumphs 
of George Eliot's art. This " singular-look- 
ing apostle of the meeting in Skipper's Lane " 
— with his rare purity of heart, his unworld- 
liness, his zeal in the cause of dissent, his 
restless argumentative spirit, and the mov- 
ing memories of romance and passion hidden 
beneath the odd, quaint physique of the little 
minister encased in rusty black — is among 
the most loving and lovable of characters, and 
recalls more particularly that passage in the 
poem entitled 'A Minor Prophet,' which I 



238 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



cannot but think one of the author's finest, 
the passage beginning — 

" The pathos exquisite of lovely minds 
Hid in harsh forms — not penetrating them 
Like fire divine within a common bush 
Which glows transfigured by the heavenly guest, 
So that men put their shoes off ; but encaged 
Like a sweet child within some thick-walled cell, 
"Who leaps and fails to hold the window-bars, 
But having shown a little dimpled hand, 
Is visited thenceforth by tender hearts 
Whose eyes keep watch about the prison walls." 

Esther, on the other hand, is one of those 
fortunate beings whose lovely mind is lodged 
in a form of corresponding loveliness. This 
charming Esther, though not originally with- 
out her feminine vanities and worldly desires, 
is one of those characters dear to George 
Eliot's heart, who renounce the allurements 
of an easy pleasurable existence for the higher 
satisfactions of a noble love or a nobler ideal. 
It is curious to notice that Eppie, Esther, 
Fedalma, and Daniel Deronda are all children 
that have been reared in ignorance of their 
real parentage, and that to all of them there 
comes a day when a more or less difficult 
decision has to be made, when for good or 
evil they have to choose, once for all, between 
two conflicting claims. Like Eppie, Esther 
rejects the advantages of birth and fortune, 
and elects to share the hard but dignified life 



FELIX HOLT. 



239 



of the high-minded Felix. But this decision 
in her case shows even higher moral worth, 
because by nature she is so keenly susceptible 
to the delicate refinements and graceful ele- 
gancies which are the natural accompaniment 
of rank and wealth. 

The most curious feature of this book con- 
sists, perhaps, in its original treatment of illicit 
passion. Novelists, as a rule, when handling 
this subject, depict its fascinations in brilliant 
contrast to the sufferings and terrors which 
follow in its train. But George Eliot contents 
herself with showing us the reverse side of the 
medal. Youth has faded, joy is dead, love 
has turned to loathing, yet memory, like a 
relentless fury, pursues the gray-haired Mrs. 
Transome, who hides within her breast such 
a heavy load of shame and dread. The power 
and intensity with which this character of the 
haughty, stern, yet inwardly quailing woman 
is drawn are unsurpassed in their way, and 
there is tragic horror in the recoil of her 
finest sensibilities from the vulgar, mean, 
self-complacent lawyer, too thick-skinned ever 
to know that in his own person he is a daily 
judgment on her whose life has been made 
hideous for his sake. Never more impres- 
sively than here does the novelist enforce her 
teaching that the deed follows the doer, being 



240 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



imbued with an incalculable vitality of its own, 
shaping all after life, and subduing to its guise 
the nature that is in bondage to it. Like 
those fabled dragon's teeth planted by Cad- 
mus, which sprung up again as armed men, 
spreading discord and ruin, so a man's evil 
actions seem endowed with independent voli- 
tion, and their consequences extend far beyond 
the individual life where they originated. 

If ' Felix Holt ' is the most intricately con- 
structed of George Eliot's novels, ' Middle- 
march,' which appeared five years afterwards, 
is, on the other hand, a story without a plot. 
In fact, it seems hardly appropriate to call it 
a novel. Like Hogarth's serial pictures rep- 
resenting the successive stages in their prog- 
ress through life of certain typical characters, 
so in this book there is unrolled before us, 
not so much the history of any particular in- 
dividual, as a whole phase of society portrayed 
with as daring and uncompromising a fidelity 
to Nature as that of Hogarth himself. In 
' Middlemarch,' English provincial life in the 
first half of the nineteenth century is indelibly 
fixed in words " holding a universe impalpa- 
ble " for the apprehension and delight of the 
furthest generations of English-speaking na- 
tions. Here, as in some kind of panorama, 
sections of a community and groups of char- 



MIDDLEMARCH. 



241 



acter pass before the mind's eye. To dwell 
on the separate, strongly individualized figures 
which constitute this great crowd would be 
impossible within the present limits. But 
from the county people such as the Brookes 
and Chettams, to respectable middle-class 
families of the Vincy and Garth type, down 
to the low, avaricious, harpy-tribes of the 
Waules and Featherstones, every unit of this 
complex social agglomeration is described 
with a life-like vividness truly amazing, when 
the number and variety of the characters 
especially are considered. I know not where 
else in literature to look for a work which 
leaves such a strong impression on the read- 
er's mind of the intertexture of human lives. 
Seen thus in perspective, each separate indi- 
viduality, with its specialized consciousness, 
is yet as indissolubly connected with the col- 
lective life as that of the indistinguishable 
zoophyte which is but a sentient speck neces- 
sarily moved by the same vital agency which 
stirs the entire organism. 

Among the figures which stand out most 
prominently from the crowded background 
are Dorothea, Lydgate, Casaubon, Rosamond 
Vincy, Ladislaw, Bulstrode, Caleb, and Mary 
Garth. Dorothea belongs to that stately type 
of womanhood, such as Romola and Fedalma, 
16 



242 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



a type which seems to be specifically George 
Eliot's own, and which has perhaps more in 
common with such Greek ideals as Antigone 
and Iphigenia, than with more modern hero- 
ines. But Dorothea, however lofty her aspi- 
rations, has not the Christian heroism of 
Romola, or the antique devotion of Fedalma. 
She is one of those problematic natures 
already spoken of; ill-adjusted to her circum- 
stances, and never quite adjusting circum- 
stances to herself. It is true that her high 
aims and glorious possibilities are partially 
stifled by a social medium where there seems 
no demand for them : still the resolute soul 
usually finds some way in which to work out 
its destiny. 

" Many ' Theresas,' " says George Eliot, 
"have been born who found for themselves 
no epic life wherein there was a constant un- 
folding of far-resonant action ; perhaps only 
a life of mistakes, the offspring of a cer- 
tain spiritual grandeur ill-matched with the 
meanness of opportunity ; perhaps a tragic 
failure which found no sacred poetVlfnd sank 
unwept into oblivion. With dim lights and 
tangled circumstance they tried to shape their 
thought and deed in noble agreement ; but, 
after all, to common eyes, their struggles 
seemed mere inconsistency and formlessness ; 



MIDDLE MA RCH. 



243 



for these later-born ' Theresas ' were helped 
by no coherent social faith and order which 
could perform the function of knowledge for 
the ardently willing soul. 

" Some have felt that these blundering lives 
are due to the inconvenient indefiniteness with 
which the Supreme Power has fashioned the 
natures of women ; if there were one level of 
feminine incompetence as strict as the ability 
to count three and no more, the social lot of 
woman might be treated with scientific certi- 
tude. Meanwhile the indefiniteness remains, 
and the limits of variation are really much 
wider than any one would imagine from the 
sameness of women's coiffure, and the favorite 
love-stories in prose and verse." 

Such a life of mistakes is that of the beauti- 
ful Dorothea, the ill-starred wife of Casaubon. 
In his way the character of Casaubon is as 
great a triumph as that of Tito himself. The 
novelist seems to have crept into the inmost 
recesses of that uneasy consciousness, to have 
probed the most sensitive spots of that dis- 
eased vanity, and to lay bare before our eyes 
the dull labor of a brain whose ideas are still- 
born. In an article by Mr. Myers it is stated, 
however incredible it may sound, that an 
undiscriminating friend once condoled with 
George Eliot on the melancholy experience 



244 GEORGE ELIOT. 

which, from her knowledge of Lewes, had 
taught her to depict the gloomy character of 
Casaubon ; whereas, in fact, there could not be 
a more striking contrast than that between 
the pedant groping amid dim fragments of 
knowledge, and the vivacious litterateur and 
thinker with his singular mental energy and 
grasp of thought. On the novelist's laugh- 
ingly assuring him that such was by no means 
the case, " From whom, then," persisted he, 
" did you draw ' Casaubon ' ? " With a hu- 
morous solemnity, which was quite in earnest, 
she pointed to her own heart. She confessed, 
on the other hand, having found the character 
of Rosamond Vincy difficult to sustain, such 
complacency of egoism, as has been pointed 
out, being alien to her own habit of mind. 
But she laid no claim to any such natural 
magnanimity as could avert Casaubon's temp- 
tations of jealous vanity, and bitter resent- 
ment. 

If there is any character in whom one may 
possibly trace some suggestions of Lewes, it 
is in the versatile, brilliant, talented Ladislaw, 
who held, that while genius must have the 
utmost play for its spontaneity, it may await 
with confidence " those messages from the 
universe which summon it to its peculiar 
work, only placing itself in an attitude of 



MIDDLEMARCH. 



245 



receptivity towards all sublime chances." But 
however charming, the impression Ladislaw 
produces is that of a somewhat shallow, frothy 
character, so that he seems almost as ill-fitted 
for Dorothea as the dreary Casaubon himself. 
Indeed the heroine's second marriage seems 
almost as much a failure as the stultifying 
union of Lydgate with Rosamond Vincy, and 
has altogether a more saddening effect than 
the tragic death of Maggie, which is how 
much less pitiful than that death in life of 
the fashionable doctor, whose best aims and 
vital purposes have been killed by his wife. 

Much might be said of Bulstrode, the sanc- 
timonious hypocrite, who is yet not altogether 
a hypocrite, but has a vein of something re- 
sembling goodness running through his crafty 
character ; of Farebrother, the lax, amiable, 
genuinely honorable vicar of St. Botolph's ; 
of Mrs. Cadwallader, the glib-tongued, witty, 
meddling rector's wife, a kind of Mrs. Poyser 
of high life ; of Caleb Garth, whose devotion 
to work is a religion, and whose likeness to 
Mr. Robert Evans has already been pointed 
out ; of the whole-hearted, sensible Mary, and 
of many other supremely vivid characters, 
whom to do justice to would carry us too 
far. 

' Middlemarch ' is the only work of George 



246 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Eliot's, I believe, in which there is a distinct 
indication of her attitude towards the aspira- 
tions and clearly formulated demands of the 
women of the nineteenth century. Her many 
sarcastic allusions to the stereotyped theory 
about woman's sphere show on which side her 
sympathies were enlisted. On the whole, she 
was more partial to the educational movement 
than to that other agitation which aims at se- 
curing the political enfranchisement of women. 
How sincerely she had the first at heart is 
shown by the donation of 50/. " From the 
author of ' Romola,' " when Girton College 
was first started. And in a letter to a young 
lady who studied there, and in whose career 
she was much interested, she says, " the pros- 
perity of Girton is very satisfactory." Among 
her most intimate friends, too, were some of 
the ladies who had initiated and organized 
the Women's Suffrage movement. Likewise 
writing to Miss Phelps, she alludes to the 
Woman's Lectureship in Boston, and remarks 
concerning the new University: "An office 
that may make a new precedent in social 
advance, and which is at the very least an 
experiment that ought to be tried. America 
is the seed-ground and nursery of new ideals, 
where they can grow in a larger, freer air 
than ours." 



MIDDLEMARCH. 247 

In 1 871, the year when ' Middlemarch ' was 
appearing in parts, George Eliot spent part of 
the spring and summer months at Shotter- 
mill, a quaint Hampshire village situated amid 
a landscape that unites beauties of the most 
varied kind. Here we may imagine her and 
Mr. Lewes, after their day's work was done, 
either seeking the vast stretch of heath and 
common only bounded by the horizon, or 
strolling through the deep-sunk lanes, or find- 
ing a soothing repose in " places of nestling 
green for poets made." They had rented 
Brookbank, an old-fashioned cottage with 
tiled roof and lattice-paned windows, belong- 
ing to Mrs. Gilchrist, the widow of the distin- 
guished biographer of William Blake. 

The description of Mrs. Meyrick's house in 
' Daniel Deronda ' " where the narrow spaces 
of wall held a world-history in scenes and 
heads," may have been suggested by her 
present abode, rich in original drawings by 
Blake, and valuable prints, and George Eliot 
writes : " If I ever steal anything in my life, 
I think it will be the two little Sir Joshuas 
over the drawing-room mantelpiece." At this 
time she and Mr. Lewes also found intense 
interest in reading the ' Life of Blake.' Some 
correspondence, kindly placed at my disposal 
by Mrs. Gilchrist, passed between this lady 



248 GEORGE ELIOT. 

and the Leweses in connection with the let- 
ting of the house, giving interesting glimpses 
into the domesticities of the latter. Their 
habits here, as in London, were of clock- 
work regularity, household arrangements be- 
ing expected to run on wheels. " Every- 
thing," writes George Eliot, " goes on slowly 
at Shottermill, and the mode of narration is 
that typified in ' This is the house that Jack 
built.' But there is an exquisite stillness in 
the sunshine and a sense of distance from 
London hurry, which encourages the growth 
of patience. 

" Mrs. G 's " (their one servant) " pace 

is proportionate to the other slownesses, but 
she impresses me as a worthy person, and 
her cooking — indeed, all her attendance on 
us — is of satisfactory quality. But we find 
the awkwardness of having only one person 
in the house, as well as the advantage (this 
latter being quietude). The butcher does not 
bring the meat, everybody grudges selling 
new milk, eggs are scarce, and an expedition 
we made yesterday in search of fowls, showed 
us nothing more hopeful than some chickens 
six weeks old, which the good woman ob- 
served were sometimes ' eaten by the gentry 
with asparagus.' Those eccentric people, the 
gentry ! 



MIDDLEMARCH. 



249 



" But have we not been reading about the 
siege of Paris all the winter, and shall we 
complain while we get excellent bread and 

butter and many etceteras ? . . . Mrs. S 

kindly sent us a dish of asparagus, which we 
ate (without the skinny chicken) and had a 
feast. 

" You will imagine that we are as fond of 
eating as Friar Tuck — I am enlarging so on 
our commissariat. But you will also infer 
that we have no great evils to complain of, 
since I make so much of the small." 

George Eliot rarely went out in the day- 
time during her stay at Shottermill, but in 
the course of her rambles she would some- 
times visit such cottagers in remote places as 
were not likely to know who she was. She 
used also to go and see a farmer's wife living 
at a short distance from Brookbank, with 
whom she would freely chat about the growth 
of fruits and vegetables and the quality of 
butter, much to the astonishment of the sim- 
ple farm people. Speaking of her recollection 
of the great novelist to an American lady by 
whom these facts are recorded, the old coun- 
trywoman remarked : " It were wonderful, 
just wonderful, the sight o' green peas that I 
sent down to that gentleman and lady every 
week." 



250 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



After the lapse of a few months spent in 
this sweet rural retreat, George Eliot again 
writes to Mrs. Gilchrist : " I did not imagine 
that I should ever be so fond of the place as I 
am now. The departure of the bitter winds, 
some improvement in my health, and the 
gradual revelation of fresh and fresh beauties 
in the scenery, especially under a hopeful sky 
such as we have sometimes had — all these 
conditions have made me love our little world 
here, and wish not to quit it until we can 
settle in our London home. I have the re- 
gret of thinking that it was my original indif- 
ference about it (I hardly ever like things 
until they are familiar) that hindered us from 
securing the cottage until the end of Sep- 
tember." 

George Eliot's conscientiousness and pre- 
cision in the small affairs of life are exem- 
plified in her last note to Mrs. Gilchrist : 
" After Mr. Lewes had written to you, I was 
made aware that a small dessert or bread- 
and-butter dish had been broken. That arch- 
sinner, the cat, was credited with the guilt. 

I am assured by Mrs. G that nothing 

else has been injured during her reign, and 

Mrs. L confirmed the statement to me 

yesterday. I wish I could replace the unfor- 
tunate dish. . . . This note, of course, needs 



MIDDLEMARCH. 



251 



no answer, and it is intended simply to make 
me a clean breast about the crockery." 

About this time George Eliot was very 
much out of health : indeed, both she and 
Lewes repeatedly speak of themselves as 
" two nervous, dyspeptic creatures, two ail- 
ing, susceptible bodies," to whom slight in- 
conveniences are injurious and upsetting. 
Although it was hot summer weather, Mrs. 
Lewes suffered much from cold, sitting always 
with artificial heat to her feet. One broiling 
day in August, after she had left Brookbank, 
and taken another place in the neighborhood, 
an acquaintance happening to call on her, 
found her sitting in the garden writing, as 
was her wont, her head merely shaded by a 
deodora, on the lawn. Being expostulated 
with by her visitor for her imprudence in 
exposing herself to the full blaze of the mid- 
day sun, she replied, " Oh, I like it ! To-day 
is the first time I have felt warm this sum- 
mer." 

They led a most secluded life, George Eliot 
being at this time engaged with the contin- 
uation of ' Middlemarch ; ' and Lewes, alluding 
to their solitary habits, writes at this date : 
" Work goes on smoothly away from all 
friendly interruptions. Lord Houghton says 
that it is incomprehensible how we can live 



252 GEORGE ELIOT. 

in such Simeon Stylites fashion, as we often 
do, all alone — but the fact is we never are 
alone when alone. And I sometimes marvel 
how it is I have contrived to get through so 
much work living in London. It's true I'm 
a London child." Occasionally, however, they 
would go and see Tennyson, whose house is 
only three miles from Shottermill, but the road 
being all uphill made the ride a little tedious 
and uncomfortable, especially to George Eliot 
who had not got over her old nervousness. 
The man who used to drive them on these 
occasions was so much struck by this that he 
told the lady who has recorded these details 
in the Century Magazine : " Withal her being 
such a mighty clever body, she were very 
nervous in a carriage — allays wanted to go 
on a smooth road, and seemed dreadful feared 
of being thrown out." On one of these oc- 
casional meetings with Tennyson, the poet 
got involved in a conversation with the nov- 
elist concerning evolution and such weighty 
questions. They had been walking together 
in close argument, and as the Poet-Laureate 
bade George Eliot farewell, he called to her, 
already making her way down the hill, " Well, 
good-by, you and your molecules ! " And she, 
looking back, said in her deep low voice (which 
always got lower when she was at all roused), 
" I am quite content with my molecules." 



MIDDLEMARCH. 



253 



The country all around Shottermill with its 
breezy uplands, its pine-clad hills, its undu- 
lating tracts of land purpled with heath in 
the autumn, became more and more endeared 
to George Eliot, who, indeed, liked it better 
than any scenery in England. Here she 
could enjoy to the full that "sense of stand- 
ing on a round world," which, she writes to 
Mrs. Gilchrist who had used the phrase, " was 
precisely what she most cared for amongst 
out-of-door delights. In December, 1876, 
we find her and Mr. Lewes permanently taking 
a house not far off, at Witley in Surrey, which 
has the same kind of beautiful open scenery. 
Writing from her town residence about it to 
her old friend Mrs. Bray, George Eliot says : 
" We, too, are thinking of a new settling 
down, for we have bought a house in Surrey 
about four miles from Godalming on a grav- 
elly hill among the pine-trees, but with neigh- 
bors to give us a sense of security. Our 
present idea is that we shall part with this 
house and give up London except for occa- 
sional visits. We shall be on the same line 
of railway with some good friends at Wey- 
bridge and Guildford." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

DANIEL DERONDA. 

' Daniel Deronda,' which appeared five years 
after ' Middlemarch,' occupies a place apart 
among George Eliot's novels. In the spirit 
which animates it, it has perhaps the closest 
affinity with ' The Spanish Gypsy.' Speaking 
of this work to a young friend of Jewish 
extraction (in whose career George Eliot felt 
keen interest), she expressed surprise at the 
amazement which her choice of a subject 
had created. " I wrote about the Jews," she 
remarked, "because I consider them a fine 
old race who have done great things for hu- 
manity. I feel the same admiration for them 
as I do for the Florentines. Only lately I 
have heard to my great satisfaction that an 
influential member of the Jewish community 
is going to start an emigration to Palestine. 
You will also be glad to learn that Helmholtz 
is a Jew." 

These observations are valuable as afford- 
ing a key to the leading motive of 'Daniel 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



255 



Deronda.' Mordecai's ardent desire to found I 
a new national state in Palestine is not simply 
the author's dramatic realization of the feeling 
of an enthusiast, but expresses her own very- 
definite sentiments on the subject. The Jew-* 
ish apostle is, in fact, more or less the mouth- 
piece of George Eliot's own opinions on 
Judaism. For so great a master in the art 
of creating character, this type of the loftiest 
kind of man is curiously unreal. Mordecai 
delivers himself of the most eloquent and 
exalted views and sentiments, yet his own 
personality remains so vague and nebulous 
that it has no power of kindling the imagi- 
nation. Mordecai is meant for a Jewish Maz- 
zini. Within his consciousness he harbors 
the future of a people. He feels himself 
destined to become the savior of his race ; 
yet he does not convince us of his greatness. 
He convinces us no more than he does the 
mixed company at the " Hand and Banner," 
which listens with pitying incredulity to his 
passionate harangues. Nevertheless the first 
and final test of the religious teacher or of 
the social reformer is the magnetic force with 
which his own intense beliefs become binding 
on the consciences of others, if only of a few. 
It is true Mordecai secures one disciple — 
the man destined to translate his thought 



256 GEORGE ELIOT. 

into action, Daniel Deronda, as shadowy, as 
puppet-like, as lifeless as Ezra Mordecai Cohen 
himself. These two men, of whom the one 
is the spiritual leader and the other the hero 
destined to realize his aspirations, are prob- 
ably the two most unsuccessful of George 
Eliot's vast gallery of characters. They are 
the representatives of an idea, but the idea 
has never been made flesh. A succinct ex- 
pression of it may be gathered from the 
following passage : 

" Which among the chief of the Gentile 
nations has not an ignorant multitude ? They 
scorn our people's ignorant observance ; but 
the most accursed ignorance is that which 
has no observance — sunk to the cunning 
greed of the fox, to which all law is no more 
than a trap or the cry of the worrying hound. 
There is a degradation deep down below the 
memory that has withered into superstition. 
For the multitude of the ignorant on three 
continents who observe our rites and make 
the confession of the Divine Unity the Lord 
of Judaism is not dead. Revive the organic 
centre : let the unity of Israel which has 
made the growth and form of its religion be 
an outward reality. Looking towards a land 
and a polity, our dispersed people in all the 
ends of the earth may share the dignity of a 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



257 



national life which has a voice among the 
peoples of the East and the West ; which 
will plant the wisdom and skill of our race, 
so that it may be, as of old, a medium of 
transmission and understanding. Let that 
come to pass, and the living warmth will 
spread to the weak extremities of Israel, and 
superstition will vanish, not in the lawless- 
ness of the renegade, but in the illumination 
of great facts which widen feeling, and make 
all knowledge alive as the young offspring of 
beloved memories." 

This notion that the Jews should return to 
Palestine in a body, and once more constitute 
themselves into a distinct nation, is curiously 
repugnant to modern feelings. As repug- 
nant as that other doctrine, which is also 
implied in the book, that Jewish separateness 
should be still further insured by strictly 
adhering to their own race in marriage — 
at least Mirah, the most faultless of George 
Eliot's heroines, whose character expresses 
the noblest side of Judaism, "is a Jewess who 
will not accept any one but a Jew." 

Mirah Lapidoth and the Princess Halm- 
Eberstein,«Deronda's mother, are drawn with 
the obvious purpose of contrasting two types 
of Jewish women. Whereas the latter, strictly 
brought up in the belief and most minute 
17 



258 GEORGE ELIOT. 

observances of her Hebrew father, breaks 
away from the "bondage of having been born 
a Jew," from which she wishes to relieve her 
son by parting from him in infancy, Mirah, 
brought up in disregard, " even in dislike of 
her Jewish origin," clings with inviolable te- 
nacity to the memory of that origin and to the 
fellowship of her people. The author leaves 
one in little doubt as to which side her own 
sympathies incline towards. She is not so 
much the artist here, impartially portraying 
different kinds of characters, as the special 
pleader proclaiming that one set of motives 
are righteous, just, and praiseworthy, as well 
as that the others are mischievous and repre- 
hensible. 

This seems carrying the principle of na- 
tionality to an extreme, if not pernicious 
length. If there were never any breaking 
up of old forms of society, any fresh blend- 
ing of nationalities and races, we should soon 
reduce Europe to another China. This un- 
wavering faithfulness to the traditions of the 
past may become a curse to the living. A 
rigidity as unnatural as it is dangerous would 
be the result of too tenacious a clinging to 
inherited memories. For if this doctrine were 
strictly carried out, such a country as Amer- 
ica, where there is a slow amalgamation of 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



259 



many allied and even heterogeneous races 
into a new nation, would practically become 
impossible. Indeed, George Eliot does not 
absolutely hold these views. She considers 
them necessary at present in order to act as 
a drag to the too rapid transformations of 
society. In the most interesting paper of 
' Theophrastus Such,' that called ' The Mod- 
ern Hep ! Hep ! Hep ! ' she remarks : " The 
tendency of things is towards quicker or 
slower fusion of races. It is impossible to 
arrest this tendency ; all we can do is to mod- 
erate its course so as to hinder it from de- 
grading the moral status of societies by a too 
rapid effacement of those national traditions 
and customs which are the language of the 
national genius — the deep suckers of healthy 
sentiment. Such moderating and guidance of 
inevitable movement is worthy of all effort." 

Considering that George Eliot was con- 
vinced of this modern tendency towards fu- 
sion, it is all the more singular that she 
should, in ' Daniel Deronda,' have laid such 
stress on the reconstruction, after the lapse 
of centuries, of a Jewish state ; singular, when 
one considers that many of the most eminent 
Jews, so far from aspiring towards such an 
event, hardly seem to have contemplated it as 
a desirable or possible prospect. The sym- 



260 GEORGE ELIOT. 

pathies of Spinoza, the Mendelssohns, Rahel, 
Meyerbeer, Heine, and many others, are not 
distinctively Jewish but humanitarian. And 
the grandest, as well as truest thing that has 
been uttered about them is that saying of 
Heine's : " The country of the Jews is the 
ideal, is God." 

Indeed, to have a true conception of Jew- 
ish nature and character, of its brilliant lights 
and deep shadows, of its pathos, depth, sub- 
limity, degradation, and wit ; of its infinite re- 
source and boundless capacity for suffering — 
one must go to Heine and not to ' Daniel 
Deronda.' In ' Jehuda-ben-Halevy' Heine ex- 
presses the love and longing of a Jewish heart 
for Jerusalem in accents of such piercing in- 
tensity that compared with it, " Mordecai's " 
fervid desire fades into mere abstract rhetoric. 

Nature and experience were the principal 
sources of George Eliot's inspiration. And 
though she knew a great deal about the Jews, 
her experience had not become sufficiently j 
incorporated with her consciousness. Other- , 
wise, instead of portraying such tame models 
of perfection as Deronda and Mirah, she would 
have so mixed her colors as to give us that 
subtle involvement of motive and tendency — 
as of cross-currents in the sea — which we 
find in the characters of nature's making and 



DANIEL DERONDA. 2 6l 

in her own finest creations, such as Mag- 
gie, Silas Marner, Dorothea Casaubon, and 
others. 

In turning to the English portion of the 
story there is at once greater play of sponta- 
neity in the people depicted. Grandcourt, 
Gascoigne, Rex, Mrs. Davilow, Sir Hugh 
Mallinger, and especially Gwendolen, show all 
the old cunning in the psychological render- 
ing of human nature. Curiously enough, this 
novel consists of two perfectly distinct narra- 
tives ; the only point of junction being Daniel 
Deronda himself, who, as a Jew by birth and 
an English gentleman by education, stands 
related to both sets of circumstances. The 
influence he exerts on the spiritual devel- 
opment of Gwendolen seems indeed the true 
motif of the story. Otherwise there is no 
intrinsic connection between the group of 
people clustering round Mordecai, and that 
of which Gwendolen is the centre : unless it 
be that the author wished to show the greater 
intensity of aim and higher moral worth of 
the Jews as contrasted with these purpose- 
less, worldly, unideal Christians of the nine- 
teenth century. 

Compared with the immaculate Mirah, 
Gwendolen Harleth is a very naughty, spoiled, 
imperfect specimen of maidenhood. But she 



262 GEORGE ELIOT. 

has life in her ; and one speculates as to what 
she will say and do next, as if she were a 
person among one's acquaintances. On that 
account most readers of ' Daniel Deronda' find 
their interest engrossed by the fate of Gwen- 
dolen, and the conjugal relations between her 
and Grandcourt. This is so much the case, 
that one suspects her to have been the first 
idea of the story. She is at any rate its most 
attractive feature. In Gwendolen, George 
Eliot once remarked, she had wished to draw 
a girl of the period. Fascinating, accom- 
plished, of siren-like beauty, she has every 
outward grace combined with a singular in- 
ward vacuity. The deeper aspects of life are 
undreamed of in her philosophy. Her relig- 
ion consists in a vague awe of the unknown 
and invisible, and her ambition in the acquisi- 
tion of rank, wealth, and personal distinction. 
She is selfish, vain, frivolous, worldly, domi- 
neering, yet not without sudden impulses of 
generosity, and jets of affection. Something 
there is in her of Undine before she had a 
soul — something of a gay, vivacious, unfeel- 
ing sprite, who recks nothing of human love 
or of human misery, but looks down with 
utter indifference on the poor humdrum mor- 
tals around her, whom she inspires at once 
with fear and fondness : something, also, of 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



263 



the " princess in exile, who in time of famine 
was to have her breakfast-roll made of the 
finest bolted flour from the seven thin ears of 
wheat, and in a general decampment was to 
have her silver fork kept out of the baggage." 
How this bewitching creature, whose " iri- 
descence of character" makes her a psycho- 
logical problem, is gradually brought to ac- 
cept Henleigh Grandcourt, in spite of the 
promise she has given to Lydia Glasher (his 
discarded victim), and her own fleeting pre- 
sentiments, is described with an analytical 
subtlety unsurpassed in George Eliot's works. 
So, indeed, is the whole episode of the mar- 
ried life of Grandcourt. This territorial mag- 
nate, who possesses every worldly advantage 
that Gwendolen desired, is worthy, as a study 
of character, to be placed beside that of Ca- 
saubon himself. Gwendolen's girlish type 
of egoism, which loves to be the centre of 
admiration, here meets with that far other 
deadlier form of an " exorbitant egoism," con- 
spicuous for its intense obstinacy and tenacity 
of rule, " in proportion as the varied suscepti- 
bilities of younger years are stripped away." 
This cold, negative nature lies with a kind of 
withering blight on the susceptible Gwendo- 
len. Roused from the complacent dreams of 
girlhood by the realities of her married life, 



264 GEORGE ELIOT. 

shrinking in helpless repulsion from the hus- 
band whom she meant to manage, and who 
holds her as in a vice, the unhappy woman 
has nothing to cling to. in this terrible inward 
collapse of her happiness, but the man, who, 
from the first moment when his eye arrests 
hers at the gaming table at Leubronn, be- 
comes, as it were, a conscience visibly incar- 
nate to her. This incident, which is told in 
the first chapter of the novel, recalls a sketch 
by Dante Rossetti, where Mary Magdalene, in 
the flush of joyous life, is heid by the Sa- 
viour's gaze, and in a sudden revulsion from 
her old life, breaks away from companions 
that would fain hold her back, with a passion- 
ate movement towards the Man of Sorrow. 
This impressive conception may have uncon- 
sciously suggested a somewhat similar situa- 
tion to the novelist, for that George Eliot was 
acquainted with this drawing is shown by the 
following letter addressed in 1870 to Dante 
Rossetti : 

" I have had time now to dwell on the 
photographs. I am especially grateful to you 
for giving me the head marked June 1861 : it 
is exquisite. But I am glad to possess every 
one of them. The subject of the Magdalene 
rises in interest for me, the more I look at it. 
I hope you will keep in the picture an equally 



DANIEL DERONDA. 2 6$ 

passionate type for her. Perhaps you will in- 
dulge me with a little talk about the modifi- 
cations you intend to introduce." 

The relation of Deronda to Gwendolen is 
of a Christlike nature. He is her only moral 
hold in the fearful temptations that assail 
her now and again under the intolerable 
irritations of her married life, temptations 
which grow more urgent when Grandcourt 
leads his wife captive, after his fashion, in 
a yacht on the Mediterranean. For " the in- 
tensest form of hatred is that rooted in fear, 
which compels to silence, and drives vehe- 
mence into a constructive vindictiveness, an 
imaginary annihilation of the detested object, 
something like the hidden rites of vengeance, 
with which the persecuted have made a dark 
vent for their rage, and soothed their suf- 
fering into dumbness. Such hidden rites 
went on in the secrecy of Gwendolen's mind, 
but not with soothing effect — rather with the 
effect of a struggling terror. Side by side 
with dread of her husband had grown the 
self-dread which urged her to flee from the 
pursuing images wrought by her pent-up 
impulse." 

The evil wish at last finds fulfilment, the 
murderous thought is outwardly realized. 
And though death is not eventually the re- 



266 GEORGE ELIOT. 

suit of the criminal desire, it yet seems to 
the unhappy wife as if it had a determin- 
ing power in bringing about the catastro- 
phe. But it is precisely this remorse which 
is the redeeming quality of her nature, 
and awakens a new life within her. In 
this quickening of the moral consciousness 
through guilt we are reminded, although 
in a different manner, of a similar process, 
full of pregnant suggestions, described in 
Nathaniel Hawthorne's ' Transformation.' It 
will be remembered that Donatello leads a 
purely instinctive, that is to say animal, exist- 
ence, till the commission of a crime awakens 
the dormant conscience, and a soul is born 
in the throes of anguish and remorse. 

In ' Daniel Deronda ' there is an entire ab- 
sence of that rich, genial humor which seemed 
spontaneously to bubble up and overflow her 
earlier works. Whether George Eliot's con- 
ception of the Jews as a peculiarly serious 
race had any share in bringing about that 
result, it is difficult to say. At any rate, in 
one of her essays she remarks that, " The 
history and literature of the ancient He- 
brews gives the idea of a people who went 
about their business and pleasure as gravely 
as a society of beavers." Certainly Morde- 
cai, Deronda, and Mirah are preternaturally 



DANIEL DERONDA. 2 6/ 

solemn ; even the Cohen family are not pre- 
sented with any of those comic touches one 
would have looked for in this great humorist ; 
only in the boy Jacob there are gleams of 
drollery such as in this description of him by 
Hans Meyrick : " He treats me with the easi- 
est familiarity, and seems in general to look 
at me as a second-hand Christian commodity, 
likely to come down in price ; remarking on 
my disadvantages with a frankness which 
seems to imply some thoughts of future pur- 
chase. It is pretty, though, to see the change 
in him if Mirah happens to come in. He 
turns child suddenly — his age usually strikes 
one as being like the Israelitish garments in 
the desert, perhaps near forty, yet with an 
air of recent production. 

A certain subdued vein of humor is not 
entirely absent from the portraiture of the 
Meyrick family, a delightful group, who " had 
their little oddities, streaks of eccentricity 
from the mother's blood as well as the 
father's, their minds being like mediaeval 
houses with unexpected recesses and open- 
ings from this into that, flights of steps, 
and sudden outlooks. But on the whole, 
instead of the old humor, we find in ' Daniel 
Deronda ' a polished irony and epigrammatic 
sarcasm, which were afterwards still more 



268 GEORGE ELIOT. 

fully developed in the ' Impressions of Theo- 
phrastus Such.' 

Soon after the publication of this novel, 
we find the following allusion to it in one 
of George Eliot's letters to Mrs. Bray : " I 
don't know what you refer to in the Jewish 
World. Perhaps the report of Dr. Hermann 
Adler's lecture on 'Deronda' to the Jewish 
working-men, given in the Times. Prob- 
ably the Dr. Adler whom you saw is Dr. 
Hermann's father, still living as Chief Rabbi. 
I have had some delightful communications 
from Jews and Jewesses, both at home and 
abroad. Part of the Club scene in ' D. D.,' is 
flying about in the Hebrew tongue through 
the various Hebrew newspapers, which have 
been copying the ' Maga,' in which the trans- 
lation was first sent to me three months ago. 
The Jews naturally are not indifferent to 
themselves." 

This Club scene gave rise at the time to 
quite a controversy. It could not fail to be 
identified with that other club of philosophers 
out at elbows so vividly described by G. H. 
Lewes in the Fortnightly Review of 1866. 
Nor was it possible not to detect an affinity 
between the Jew Cohen, the poor consump- 
tive journeyman watchmaker, with his weak 
voice and his great calm intellect, and Ezra 



DANIEL DERONDA. 



269 



Mordecai Cohen, in precisely similar condi- 
tions ; the difference being that the one is 
penetrated by the philosophical idea of Spi- 
nozism, and the other by the political idea of 
reconstituting a Jewish State in Palestine. 
This difference of mental bias, no doubt, 
forms a contrast between the two characters, 
without, however, invalidating the surmise 
that the fictitious enthusiast may have been 
originally suggested by the noble figure of 
the living Jew. Be that as it may, Lewes 
often took the opportunity in conversation 
of "pointing out that no such resemblance 
existed, Cohen being a keen dialectician and 
a highly impressive man, but without any 
specifically Jewish enthusiasm." 

When she undertook to write about the 
Jews, George Eliot was deeply versed in He- 
brew literature, ancient and modern. She 
had taught herself Hebrew when translating 
the Leben Jesu, and this knowledge now 
stood her in good stead. She was also famil- 
iar with the splendid utterances of Jehuda- 
ben-Halevy ; with the visionary speculations 
of the Cabbalists, and with the brilliant Jew- 
ish writers of the Hispano-Arabic epoch. 
She had read portions of the Talmud, and 
remarked one day in conversation that Spi- 
noza had really got something from the Cab- 



270 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



bala. On her friend humbly suggesting that 
by ordinary accounts it appeared to be awful 
nonsense, she said " that it nevertheless con- 
tained fine ideas, like Plato and the Old Tes- 
tament, which, however, people took in the 
lump, being accustomed to them." 



CHAPTER XV. 



LAST YEARS. 



' Daniel Deronda ' is the last great imagina- 
tive work with which George Eliot was des- 
tined to enrich the world. It came out in 
small volumes, the appearance of each fresh 
number being hailed as a literary event. In 
allusion to an author's feeling on the conclu- 
sion of a weighty task, George Eliot remarks 
in one of her letters : "As to the great novel 
which remains to be written, I must tell you 
that I never believe in future books. . . . Al- 
ways after finishing a book I have a period of 
despair that I can never again produce any- 
thing worth giving to the world. The re- 
sponsibility of the writer grows heavier and 
heavier — does it not ? — as the world grows 
older, and the voices of the dead more numer- 
ous. It is difficult to believe, until the germ 
of some new work grows into imperious activ- 
ity within one, that it is possible to make a 
really needed contribution to the poetry of the 
world — I mean possible to one's self to do it.' 



272 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



This singular diffidence, arising from a 
sense of the tremendous responsibility which 
her position entailed, was one of the most 
noticeable characteristics of this great woman, 
and struck every one who came in contact 
with her. Her conscientiousness made her 
even painfully anxious to enter sympatheti- 
cally into the needs of every person who ap- 
proached her, so as to make her speech a 
permanently fruitful influence in her hearer's 
life. Such an interview, for example, as that 
between Goethe and Heine — where the 
younger poet, after thinking all the way what 
fine things to say to Goethe, was so discon- 
certed by the awe-inspiring presence of the 
master, that he could find nothing better to 
say than that the plums on the road-side 
between Jena and Weimar were remarkably 
good — would have been impossible with one 
so eager always to give of her best. 

This deep seriousness of nature made her 
Sunday afternoon receptions, which became 
more and more fashionable as time went on, 
something of a tax to one who preferred the 
intimate converse of a few to that more su- 
perficially brilliant talk which a promiscuous 
gathering brings with it. Among the distin- 
guished visitors to be met more or less fre- 
quently at the Priory may be mentioned Mr. 



LAST YEARS. 



273 



Herbert Spencer, Professor Huxley, Mr. Fred- 
eric Harrison, Professor Beesly, Dr. and Mrs. 
Congreve, Madame Bodichon, Lord Houghton, 
M. Tourguenief, Mr. Ralston, Sir Theodore 
and Lady Martin (better known as Helen 
Faucit), Mr. Burton of the National Gallery, 
Mr. George Howard and his wife, Mr. C. G. 
Leland, Mr. Moncure Conway, Mr. Justin 
McCarthy, Dr. Hueffer, Mr. and Mrs. Buxton 
Forman, Mr. F. Myers, Mr. Sully, Mr. Du 
Maurier, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Pattison, Mr. 
and Mrs. Clifford, Lady Castletown and her 
daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Burne Jones, Mr. 
John Everett Millais, Mr. Robert Browning, 
and Mr. Tennyson. 

Persons of celebrity were not the only ones, 
however, that were made welcome at the 
Priory. The liveliest sympathy was shown by 
both host and hostess in many young people 
as yet struggling in obscurity, but in whom 
they delighted to recognize the promise of some 
future excellence. If a young man were pursu- 
ing some original scientific inquiry, or striking 
out a new vein of speculation, in all London 
there was none likely to enter with such zest 
into his ideas as G. H. Lewes. His generous 
appreciation of intellectual gifts is well shown 
in the following lines to Professor W. K. Clif- 
ford : 



274 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



" Few things have given us more pleasure 
than the intimation in your note that you had 
a fiancee. May she be the central happiness 
and motive force of your career, and, by satis- 
fying the affections, leave your rare intellect 
free to work out its glorious destiny. For, if 
you don't become a glory to your age and time, 
it will be a sin and a shame. Nature doesn't 
often send forth such gifted sons, and when 
she does, Society usually cripples them. 
Nothing but marriage — a happy marriage — 
has seemed to Mrs. Lewes and myself want- 
ing to your future." 

On the Sunday afternoon receptions just 
mentioned, G. H. Lewes acted, so to speak, 
as a social cement. His vivacity, his ready 
tact, the fascination of his manners, diffused 
that general sense of ease and abandon so 
requisite to foster an harmonious flow of con- 
versation. He was inimitable as a raconteur, 
and Thackeray, Trollope, and Arthur Helps 
were fond of quoting some of the stories 
which he would dramatize in the telling. 
One of the images which, on these occasions, 
recurs oftenest to George Eliot's friends, is 
that of the frail-looking woman who would 
sit with her chair drawn close to the fire, and 
whose winning womanliness of bearing and 
manners struck every one who had the privi- 



LAST YEARS. 



275 



lege of an introduction to her. Her long, 
pale face, with its strongly marked features, 
was less rugged in the mature prime of life 
than in youth, the inner meanings of her na- 
ture having worked themselves more and 
more to the surface, the mouth, with its 
benignant suavity of expression, especially 
softening the too prominent under-lip and 
massive jaw. Her abundant hair, untinged 
with gray, whose smooth bands made a kind 
of frame to the face, was covered by a lace or 
muslin cap, with lappets of rich point or Val- 
enciennes lace fastened under her chin. Her 
gray-blue eyes, under noticeable eyelashes, 
expressed the same acute sensitiveness as 
her long, thin, beautifully shaped hands. She 
had a pleasant laugh and smile, her voice 
being low, distinct, and intensely sympathetic 
in quality : it was contralto in singing, but 
she seldom sang or played before more than 
one or two friends. Though her conversation 
was perfectly easy, each sentence was as fin- 
ished, as perfectly formed, as the style of her 
published works. Indeed, she laid great stress 
on the value of correct speaking and clearness 
of enunciation ; and in ' Theophrastus Such ' 
she laments " the general ambition to speak 
every language except our mother English, 
which persons ' of style ' are not ashamed of 



276 GEORGE ELIOT. 

corrupting with slang, false foreign equiva- 
lents, and a pronunciation that crushes out 
all color from the vowels, and jams them be- 
tween jostling consonants." 

Besides M. D'Albert's Genevese portrait of 
George Eliot, we have a drawing by Mr. Bur- 
ton, and another by Mr. Lawrence, the latter 
taken soon after the publication of ' Adam 
Bede.' In criticising the latter likeness, a 
keen observer of human nature remarked that 
it conveyed no indication of the infinite depth 
of her observant eye, nor of that cold, subtle, 
and unconscious cruelty of expression which 
might occasionally be detected there. George 
Eliot had an unconquerable aversion to her 
likeness being taken : once, however, in i860, 
she was photographed for the sake of her 
" dear sisters " at Rosehill. But she seems 
to have repented of this weakness, for, after 
the lapse of years, she writes : " Mr. Lewes 
has just come to me after reading your letter, 
and says, ' For God's sake tell her not to have 
the photograph reproduced ! ' and I had nearly 
forgotten to say that the fading is what I 
desired. I should not like this image to be 
perpetuated. It needs the friendly eyes that 
regret to see it fade, and must not be recalled 
into emphatic black and white for indifferent 
gazers. Pray let it vanish." 



LAST YEARS. 



277 



Those who knew George Eliot were even 
more struck by the force of her entire per- 
sonality than by her writings. Sympathetic, 
witty, or learned in turn, her conversation 
deeply impressed her hearers, being enriched 
by such felicities of expression as : " The best 
lesson of tolerance we have to learn is to tol- 
erate intolerance." In answer to a friend's 
surprise that a clever man should allow him- 
self to be contradicted by a stupid one, without 
dropping down on him, she remarked : " He 
is very liable to drop down as a baked apple 
would." And of a very plain acquaintance 
she said : " He has the most dreadful kind of 
ugliness one can be afflicted with, because it 
takes on the semblance of beauty." 

Poetry, music, and art naturally absorbed 
much attention at the Priory. Here Mr. 
Tennyson has been known to read ' Maud ' 
aloud to his friends : Mr. Browning expatiated 
on the most recondite metrical rules : and 
Rossetti sent presents of poems and photo- 
graphs. In the following unpublished letters 
George Eliot thanks the latter for his valued 
gifts — "We returned only the night before 
last from a two months' journey to the Con- 
tinent, and among the parcels awaiting me I 
found your generous gift. I am very grateful 
to you both as giver and poet. 



278 GEORGE ELIOT. 

" In cutting the leaves, while my head is 
still swimming from the journey, I have not 
resisted the temptation to read many things 
as they ought not to be read — hurriedly. 
But even in this way I have received a 
stronger impression than any fresh poems 
have for a long while given me, that to read 
once is a reason for reading again. The son- 
nets towards ' The House of Life ' attract me 
peculiarly. I feel about them as I do about a 
new cahier of music which I have been ' try- 
ing' here and there with the delightful con- 
viction that I have a great deal to become 
acquainted with and to like better and better." 
And again, in acknowledgment of some pho- 
tographs : " The .' Hamlet' seems to me per- 
fectly intelligible, and altogether admirable in 
conception, except in the type of the man's 
head. I feel sure that ' Hamlet ' had a square 
anterior lobe. 

" Mr. Lewes says, this conception of yours 
makes him long to be an actor who has ' Ham- 
let ' for one of his parts, that he might carry 
out this scene according to your idea. 

" One is always liable to mistake prejudices 
for sufficient inductions, about types of head 
and face, as well as about all other things. I 
have some impressions — perhaps only preju- 
dices dependent on the narrowness of my 



LAST YEARS. 279 

experience — about forms of eyebrow and 
their relation to passionate expression. It is 
possible that such a supposed relation has a 
real anatomical basis. But in many particu- 
lars facial expression is like the expression 
of hand-writing : the relations are too subtle 
and intricate to be detected, and only shallow- 
ness is confident." 

George Eliot read but little contemporary 
fiction, being usually absorbed in the study of 
some particular subject. " For my own spir- 
itual good I need all other sort of reading," 
she says, "more than I need fiction. I know 
nothing of contemporary English novelists 

with the exception of , and a few of 's 

works. My constant groan is that I must 
leave so much of the greatest writing which 
the centuries have sifted for me unread for 
want of time." For the same reason, on be- 
ing recommended by a literary friend to read 
Walt Whitman, she hesitated on the ground 
of his not containing anything spiritually 
needful for her, but, having been induced to 
take him up, she changed her opinion and 
admitted that he did contain what was " good 
for her soul." As to lighter reading, she was 
fond of books of travel, pronouncing " ' The 
Voyage of the Challenger ' a splendid book." 
Among foreign novelists she was very partial 



280 GEORGE ELIOT. 

to Henry Greville, and speaks of ' Les Kou- 
miassine ' as a pleasant story. 

Persons who were privileged enough to be 
admitted to the intimacy of George Eliot and 
Mr. Lewes could not fail to be impressed by 
the immense admiration which they had for 
one another. Lewes's tenderness, always on 
the watch lest the great writer, with her deli- 
cately poised health, should over-exert herself, 
had something of doglike fidelity. On the 
other hand, in spite of George Eliot's habitu- 
ally retiring manner, if any one ever engaged 
on the opposite side of an argument to that 
maintained by the brilliant savant, in taking 
his part, she usually had the best of it, al- 
though in the most gentle and feminine way. 

Although there was entire oneness of feel- 
ing between them, there was no unanimity of 
opinion. George Eliot had the highest re- 
gard for Lewes's opinions, but held to her 
own. One of the chief subjects of difference 
consisted in their attitude towards Chris- 
tianity : whereas he was its uncompromising 
opponent, she had the greatest sympathy 
with its various manifestations from Roman 
Catholic asceticism to Evangelical austerity 
and Methodist fervor. Her reverence for 
every form of worship in which mankind has 
more or less consciously embodied its sense 



LAST YEARS. 28 T 

of the mystery of all " this unintelligible 
world " increased with the years. She was 
deeply penetrated by that tendency of the 
Positivist spirit which recognizes the bene- 
ficial element in every form of religion, and 
sees the close, nay indissoluble, connection 
between the faith of former generations and 
the ideal of our own. She herself found 
ample scope for the needs and aspirations of 
her spiritual nature in the religion of human- 
ity. As has already been repeatedly pointed 
out, there runs through all her works the 
same persistent teaching of " the Infinite Na- 
ture of Duty." And with Comte she refers 
" the obligations of duty, as well as all sen- 
timents of devotion, to a concrete object, at 
once ideal and real ; the Human Race, con- 
ceived as a continuous whole, including the 
past, the present, and the future." 

Though George Eliot drew many of her 
ideas of moral cultivation from the doctrines 
of Comte's Philosophie Positive, she was not 
a Positivist in the strict sense of the word. 
Her mind was far too creative by nature to 
give an unqualified adhesion to such a system 
as Comte's. Indeed, her devotion to the idea 
of mankind, conceived as a collective whole, 
is not so much characteristic of Positivists as 
of the greatest modern minds, minds such as 



282 GEORGE ELIOT. 

Lessing, Bentham, Shelley, Mill, Mazzini, and 
Victor Hugo. Inasmuch as Comte co-ordi- 
nated these ideas into a consistent doctrine, 
George Eliot found herself greatly attracted 
to his system ; and Mr. Beesly, after an 
acquaintance of eighteen years, considered 
himself justified in stating that her powerful 
intellect had accepted the teaching of Au- 
guste Comte, and that she looked forward to 
the reorganization of belief on the lines which 
he had laid down. Still her adherence, like 
that of G. H. Lewes, was only partial, and 
applied mainly to his philosophy, and not to 
his scheme of social policy. She went farther 
than the latter, however, in her concurrence. 
For Mr. Lewes, speaking of the Politique 
Positive in his ' History of Philosophy,' ad- 
mits that his antagonistic attitude had been 
considerably modified on learning from the 
remark of one very dear to him, " to regard 
it as an Utopia, presenting hypotheses rather 
than doctrines — suggestions for future in- 
quiries rather than dogmas for adepts." 

On the whole, although George Eliot did 
not agree with Comte's later theories concern- 
ing the reconstruction of society, she regarded 
them with sympathy " as the efforts of an 
individual to anticipate the work of future 
generations." This sympathy with the gen- 



LAST YEARS. 283 

eral Positivist movement she showed by sub- 
scribing regularly to Positivist objects, espe- 
cially to the fund of the Central Organization 
presided over by M. Laffitte, but she invariably 
refused all membership with the Positivist 
community. In conversation with an old 
and valued friend, she also repeatedly ex- 
pressed her objection to much in Comte's 
later speculations, saying on one occasion, 
" I cannot submit my intellect or my soul to 
the guidance of Comte." The fact is that, 
although George Eliot was greatly influenced 
by the leading Positivist ideas, her mind was 
too original not to work out her own individ- 
ual conception of life. 

What this conception is has been already 
indicated, so far as space would permit, in 
the discussion of her successive works. Per- 
haps in the course of time her moralizing 
analytical tendency encroached too much on 
the purely artistic faculty. Her eminently 
dramatic genius — which enabled her to real- 
ize characters the most varied and opposite 
in type, somewhat in the manner of Shake- 
speare — became hampered by theories and 
abstract views of life. This was especially 
shown in her latest work 'The Impressions 
of Theophrastus Such,' a series of essays 
chiefly satirizing the weaknesses and vanities 



284 GEORGE ELIOT. 

of the literary class. In these unattractive 
" impressions " the wit is often labored, and 
does not play " beneficently round the chang- 
ing facets of egoism, absurdity, and vice, as 
the sunshine over the rippling sea or the 
dewy meadows." Its cutting irony and in- 
cisive ridicule are no longer tempered by the 
humorous laugh, but have the corrosive qual- 
ity of some acrid chemical substance. 

One of the papers, however, that entitled 
' Debasing the Moral Currency,' expresses 
a strongly marked characteristic of George 
Eliot's mind. It is a pithy protest against 
the tendency of the present generation to 
turn the grandest deeds and noblest works 
of art into food for laughter. For she hated 
nothing so much as mockery and ridicule of 
what other people reverenced, often remark- 
ing that those who considered themselves 
freest from superstitious fancies were the 
most intolerant. She carried this feeling to 
such a pitch that she even disliked a book 
like ' Alice in Wonderland ' because it laughed 
at the things which children had had a kind 
of belief in. In censuring this vicious habit 
of burlesquing the things that ought to be 
regarded with awe and admiration, she re- 
marks, "Let a greedy buffoonery debase all 
historic beauty, majesty, and pathos, and the 



LAST YEARS. 



285 



more you heap up the desecrated symbols, 
the greater will be the lack of the ennobling 
emotions which subdue the tyranny of suffer- 
ing, and make ambition one with virtue." 

' Looking Backward ' is the only paper in 
' Theophrastus Such ' quite free from cyni- 
cism. It contains, under a slightly veiled 
form, pathetically tender reminiscences of 
her own early life. This volume, not pub- 
lished till May 1879, was written before the 
incalculable loss which befell George Eliot 
in the autumn of the preceding year. 

After spending the summer of 1878 in the 
pleasant retirement of Witley, Lewes and 
George Eliot returned to London. A severe 
cold taken by Lewes proved the forerunner 
of a serious disorder, and, after a short ill- 
ness, this bright, many-sided, indefatigable 
thinker passed away in his sixty-second year. 
He had frequently said to his friends that the 
most desirable end of a well-spent life was a 
painless death ; and although his own could 
not be called painless, his sufferings were at 
least of short duration. Concerning the suf- 
fering and anguish of her who was left be- 
hind to mourn him, one may most fitly say, 
in her own words, that " for the first sharp 
pangs there is no comfort — whatever good- 
ness may surround us, darkness and silence 



286 GEORGE ELIOT. 

still hang about our pain." In her case, also, 
the " clinging companionship with the dead " 
was gradually linked with her living affec- 
tions, and she found alleviation for her sor- 
row in resuming those habits of continuous 
mental occupation which had become second 
nature with her. In a letter addressed to a 
friend, who, only a few short months after- 
wards, suffered a like heavy bereavement, 
there breathes the spirit in which George 
Eliot bore her own sorrow : " I understand 
it all. . . . There is but one refuge — the 
having much to do. You have the mother's 
duties. Not that these can yet make your 
life other than a burden to be patiently borne. 
Nothing can, except the gradual adaptation 
of your soul to the new conditions. ... It 
is among my most cherished memories that 
I knew your husband, and from the first de- 
lighted in him. . . . All blessing — and even 
the sorrow that is a form of love has a heart 
of blessing — is tenderly wished for you." 

On seeing this lady for the first time after 
their mutual loss, George Eliot asked her 
eagerly : " Do the children help ? Does it 
make any difference ? " Some help there was 
for the widowed heart of this sorrowing woman 
in throwing herself, with all her energies, into 
the work which Lewes had left unfinished at 



LAST YEARS. 2 8y 

his death, and preparing it for publication, 
with the help of an expert. Another subject 
which occupied her thoughts at this time, was 
the foundation of the " George Henry Lewes 
Studentship," in order to commemorate the 
name of one who had done so much to distin- 
guish himself in the varied fields of literature, 
science, and philosophy. The value of the 
studentship is slightly under 200/. a year. 
It is worth noticing that persons of both sexes 
are received as candidates. The object of the 
endowment is to encourage the prosecution 
of original research in physiology, a science 
to whose study Lewes had devoted himself 
most assiduously for many years. Writing of 
this matter to a young lady, one of the Girton 
students, George Eliot says : " I know . . . 
will be glad to hear also that both in England 
and Germany the type, or scheme, on which 
the studentship is arranged has been regarded 
with satisfaction, as likely to be a useful 
model." 

Amid such preoccupations, and the prepara- 
tion of 'Theophrastus Such' for the press, the 
months passed on, and George Eliot was be- 
ginning to see her friends again, when one day 
she not only took the world, but her intimate 
circle by surprise, by her marriage with Mr. 
John Walter Cross, on the 6th of May, 1880. 



288 GEORGE ELIOT. 

George Eliot's acquaintance with Mr. 
Cross, dating from the year 1867, had long 
ago grown into the warmest friendship, and 
his boundless devotion to the great woman 
whose society was to him as his daily bread, 
no doubt induced her to take a step which 
could not fail to startle even those who loved 
her the most. But George Eliot's was a nature 
that needed some one especially to love. And 
though that precious companionship, at once 
stimulating and sympathetic, which she had 
so long enjoyed, was taken from her, she could 
still find comfort during the remainder of her 
life in the love, the appreciation, and the ten- 
der care which were proffered to her by Mr. 
Cross. Unfortunately her life was not des- 
tined to be prolonged. 

Although seeming fairly well at this date, 
George Eliot's health, always delicate, had 
probably received a shock, from which it 
never recovered. Only six months before 
her marriage three eminent medical men 
were attending her for a painful disease. 
However, there seemed still a prospect of 
happiness for her when she and Mr. Cross 
went for a tour in Italy, settling, on their 
return, at her favorite country house at Wit- 
ley. In the autumn they once more made 
their home in London, at Mr. Cross's town 



LAST YEARS. 



289 



house at 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, and Mrs. 
Cross, who was again beginning to receive 
her friends, seemed, to all appearances, well 
and happy, with a prospect of domestic love 
and unimpaired mental activity stretching 
out before her. But it was not to be. On 
Friday, the 17th of December, George Eliot 
attended a representation of the ' Agamem- 
non,' in Greek, by Oxford undergraduates, 
and was so stirred by the grand words of her 
favorite ^schylus, that she was contemplat- 
ing a fresh perusal of the Greek dramatists 
with her husband. On the following day she 
went to the Saturday popular concert, and on 
returning home played through some of the 
music she had been hearing. Her fatal cold 
was probably caught on that occasion, for, 
although she received her friends, according 
to custom, on the Sunday afternoon, she felt 
indisposed in the evening, and on the follow- 
ing day an affection of the larynx necessitated 
medical advice. There seemed no cause for 
alarm at first, till on Wednesday it was un- 
expectedly discovered that inflammation had 
arisen in the heart, and that no hope of re- 
covery remained. Before midnight of the 
22nd of December, 1880, George Eliot, who 
died at precisely the same age as Lewes, had 
passed quietly and painlessly away ; and on 
19 



290 



GEORGE ELIOT. 



Christmas Eve the announcement of her 
death was received with general grief. She 
was buried by the side of George Henry- 
Lewes, in the cemetery at Highgate. 

George Eliot's career has been habitually 
described as uniform and uneventful. In 
reality nothing is more misleading. On the 
contrary, her life, from its rising to its set- 
ting, describes an astonishingly wide orbit. 
If one turns back in imagination from the 
little Staffordshire village whence her father 
sprang, to the simple rural surroundings of 
her own youth, and traces her history to the 
moment when a crowd of mourners, consist- 
ing of the most distinguished men and women 
in England, followed her to the grave, one 
cannot help realizing how truly eventful was 
the life of her who now joined in spirit the 

" Choir invisible 
Of those immortal dead who live again 
In minds made better by their presence : live 
In pulses stirred to generosity, 
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
For miserable aims that end in self, 
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 
And with their mild persistence urge man's search 
To vaster issues." 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 

GEORGE ELIOT'S HOME LIFE AND FRIENDS 

The extracts from the journal and letters of George 
Eliot which comprise the three- volume ' Life,' pre- 
pared by Mr. Cross, first show her to us at the age of 
eighteen, and an introductory chapter by Mr. Cross 
summarizes the known facts of her parentage, early 
home life, and education. But even one who came 
so intimately into her life as her husband has been 
unable to satisfy a natural desire to know the famous 
woman as a child and as a girl in her teens. He 
himself is obliged to resort to conjectures, and more 
than once prefaces his remarks with " we may im- 
agine," or some similar expression ; he also cautions 
the reader against placing a too implicit confi- 
dence in the descriptions of the child Maggie as 
autobiographical, since fact and fiction are tightly 
interwoven. Hence we are left to imagine as we will 
the days in her life which were the most care -free. 

When she was seventeen years of age, her mother 
died, and in the year following her older sister was 
married ; and it was then that her life of stern duties 
began and she turned her back for all time upon 
whatever girlish pleasures and follies may have been 
hers. She comes before us first in letters in Cross's 
' Life ' rigidly devoted to her duty as home-keeper 
in her father's house, and so thoroughly subservient 
to her conscience and her religion that she seems the 
type of some primitive Christian martyr, resolved on 
a scheme of self-martyrdom, whether or not it is 
demanded of her. 



294 



APPENDIX. 



It is not easy to realize the extent to which religion 
had become the controlling power in her life, except 
by the aid of such concrete illuminations as are found 
in some of her letters. On her first visit to London, 
a trip taken with her brother as sole companion, she 
was " not at all delighted with the stir of the great 
Babel," and, like the ascetic that she had temporarily 
become, refused to attend the theatre, and for a 
souvenir of the trip bought Josephus's ' History of 
the Jews.' She wrote of herself : " I used to go 
about like an owl, to the great disgust of my brother; 
and I would have denied him what I now see to have 
been quite lawful amusements." 

Music, which was all her life a passion and help, 
she came to pronounce "a useless accomplishment," 
and seriously pondered whether she could profitably 
attend " such exhibitions of talent " as an oratorio 
which she had just heard rendered. And when she 
reached the point of solemnly asserting that novels 
were pernicious, since surely " the weapons of Chris- 
tian warfare were never sharpened at the forge of 
romance," we recognize how deeply rooted the reli- 
gious feeling was, that would urge her to find per- 
nicious the two things that were most congenial in 
her life, — music and books. Her language even took 
on a scriptural cast. The marriage of a friend pro- 
voked the spoken thought that " those are happiest 
who are not fermenting themselves by engaging in 
projects for earthly bliss, who are considering this 
life merely a pilgrimage, a scene calling for diligence 
and watchfulness, not for repose and amusement." 
She desired a proper " scriptural digestion " and 
wrote her aunt : " I shall not only suffer, but be 
delighted to receive, the word of exhortation, and I 
beg you not to withhold it." The "dominant cor- 
ruption" of her nature she found to be ambition, 
"which turns the milk of my good purpose all to 



APPENDIX. 295 

curd." " The beautiful heavens . . . awaken in me 
. . . aspiration after all that is suited to engage an 
immaterial nature." 

A small proportion of Mr. Cross's ' Life ' of George 
Eliot consists of journal extracts, the body of the 
work being a continuous series of letters to her friends 
and publisher. George Eliot was preeminently a 
woman of friends. She could and did live without 
health or bodily ease, she could have lived happily 
in poverty, but it would have been impossible for a 
woman of her affectionate, sensitive, self-deprecating 
nature to live without friends. The greatest tribute 
to her sterling womanliness and nobility is the friend- 
ship and love which good, and often great, women laid 
at her feet, both in the years of her obscurity and 
public censure as well as in the days of renown. 

After she had grown away from the Maggie Tulliver 
period and had entered upon housekeeping responsi- 
bilities, away from the brother Tom whose playmate 
she had long been, for three years, from 1838 to 1841, 
her only intimate friend and correspondent was a 
Miss Lewis, who had been the principal governess in 
Miss Wallington's school at Nuneaton, which George 
Eliot attended in her eighth or ninth year. It is to 
this Miss Lewis that the first letters in the ' Life ' are 
directed. Mr. Cross remarks : " At Miss Wallington's 
. . . the religious side of her nature was developed to 
a remarkable degree. Miss Lewis was an ardent 
Evangelical Churchwoman, and exerted a strong 
influence on her young pupil, whom she found very 
sympathetically inclined. But Mary Ann Evans did 
not associate freely with her schoolfellows, and her 
friendship with Miss Lewis was the only intimacy she 
indulged in." 

This was distinctly not the ordinary girlish friend- 
ship, for Miss Lewis was much older than her former 
pupil and George Eliot had eschewed all youthful 



296 



APPENDIX. 



vanities and was settling down to the sober earnest- 
ness of life, although she was not yet twenty. Perhaps 
the only suggestion of levity in their correspondence 
was the occasion of George Eliot's writing that some 
one had bestowed upon her the flower name 
" Clematis." She promised to send Miss Lewis one 
also. Accordingly the next letter is inscribed " My 
dear Veronica — which, being interpreted, is 'fidelity 
in friendship.' " The general tone of their correspond- 
ence is, however, the reverse of light, as the following 
indicates : "I do not deny that there may be many 
who can partake with a high degree of zest of all the 
lawful enjoyments the world can offer, and yet live 
in near communion with their God — who can warmly 
love the creature, and yet be careful that the Creator 
maintains his supremacy in their hearts ; but I con- 
fess that, in my short experience and narrow sphere 
of action, I have never been able to attain to 
this." 

She " highly enjoyed " Hannah More's letters ; 
" the contemplation of so blessed a character as hers 
is very salutary." If one doubts that this admiration 
for religious enthusiasts was but a part of a short, 
definite period of her life — her intimacy with Miss 
Lewis — he has but to turn to a letter from the same 
hand just ten years later. " I am glad you detest 
Mrs. Hannah More's letters. I like neither her 
letters, nor her books, nor her character. She was 
that most disagreeable of all monsters, a blue- stock- 
ing — a monster that can only exist in a miserably 
false state of society, in which a woman with but a 
smattering of learning or philosophy is classed along 
with singing mice and card-playing pigs." The 
George Eliot of the first writing was that incarnation 
of herself which placed the ban of condemnation 
upon music and fiction and thought it good to rejoice 
only in suffering, denying herself all that she most 



APPENDIX. 



297 



longed for. She begged Miss Lewis to " turn to the 
passage in Young's '■ Infidel Reclaimed,' beginning, 
' vain, vain, vain all else eternity,' and do love the 
lines for my sake." She found her housekeeping 
responsibilities a " slough of domestic troubles," and 
the preparations that she was obliged to make for 
Michaelmas were characterized as " matters so nau- 
seating to me that it will be a charity to console me." 
While such duties were disagreeable to her, yet else- 
where she grieved that she had not made currant 
jelly as cheerfully as a Christian ought. 

The noise and confusion of repairs being made 
upon the house was " abhorrent " to all her tastes 
and feelings and she scripturally illustrated her 
emotions by contrast thus : " How impressive must 
the gradual rise of Solomon's Temple have been ! 
each prepared mass of virgin marble laid in reveren- 
tial silence." One of the chief pleasures of a " lark " 
with her father in Derbyshire was that of gazing on 
some of the " everlasting hills." Her imagination 
was "an enemy that must be cast down ere I can 
enjoy peace or exhibit uniformity of character." She 
did not know whether to dread most her imaginative 
inclination to spread sackcloth " above, below, 
around," or the tendency to cheat herself with visions 
of beauty. 

Upon her brother's marriage she and her father 
removed to Foleshill road, near Coventry, where their 
near neighbor was a Mrs. Pears, a sister of Mr. 
Charles Bray, through whom George Eliot met this 
somewhat remarkable family at Rosehill. And as her 
intimacy with Miss Lewis waned, a more natural, 
more human friendship was born and grew daily 
between herself and these cultured people. How 
completely her first early friendship became a thing 
of the past is shown by an extract from a letter 
written by George Eliot years later when she was 



298 APPENDIX. 

fifty-six years old. " I wonder if you all remember 
an old governess of mine who used to visit me at 
Foleshill — a Miss Lewis? I have found her out. 
She is living at Leamington, very poor as well as old, 
but cheerful, and so delighted to be remembered with 
gratitude." 

To Miss Sara Hennell " Miss Evans mainly turns 
now for intellectual sympathy; to Mrs. Bray when 
she is in pain or trouble, and wants affectionate com- 
panionship ; with Mr. Bray she quarrels, and the 
humorous side of her nature is brought out. Every 
good story goes to him, with a certainty that it will 
be appreciated. With all three it is a beautiful and 
consistent friendship, running like a thread through 
the woof of the coming thirty-eight years." 

Although George Eliot had previously urged Miss 
Lewis to " ever believe that ' my heart is as thy 
heart,' that you may rely on me as on a second self," 
and insisted that " I long to have a friend such as 
you are . . . alone to me, to unburden every thought 
and difficulty — for I am a solitary though near a 
city " ; yet those were the days when she wrote that 
she had become alive to the fact that she was alone 
in the world. " I do not mean to be so sinful as to 
say that I have not friends most undeservedly kind 
and tender . . . but I mean that I have no one who 
enters into my pleasures or my griefs, no one with 
whom I can pour out my soul, no one with the same 
yearnings, the same temptations, the same delights as 
myself." From the date of her early friendship with 
the Brays and their friends, this mood came to her 
less frequently. " In Mr. and Mrs. Bray and in the 
Hennell family she had found friends who called 
forth her interest and stimulated her powers in no 
common degree. This was traceable even in ex- 
ternals, in the changed tone of voice and manner." 
When she left her cares at home to stay for a time at 



APPENDIX. 



299 



Rosehill, she always felt, as she closed the garden door, 
that she was shutting the world out. 

Perhaps next to Mr. Lewes, Sara Hennell was 
George Eliot's greatest inspiration to literary activity. 
She was especially helpful in the work of translating 
Strauss. It was to her that George Eliot wrote : " I 
am miserably in want of you to stir up my soul and 
make it shake its wings, and begin some kind of 
flight after something good and noble, for I am in a 
grovelling, slothful condition, and you are the only 
friend I possess who has an animating influence over 
me. . . . Tell me not that I am a mere prater — 
that feeling never talks. I will talk, and caress, and 
look lovingly, until death makes me as stony as the 
Gorgon-like heads of all the judicious people I know." 
..." I am translating the ' Tractatus Theologico- 
Politicus ' of Spinoza, and seem to want the only 
friend that knows how to praise or blame. How 
exquisite is the satisfaction of feeling that another 
mind than your own sees precisely where and what 
is the difficulty, and can exactly appreciate the suc- 
cess with which it is overcome." ..." Remember, 
you are one of my guardian angels." 

To the sympathetic lover of the quiet author, of 
whom one usually thinks as a sombre figure, melan- 
choly and self- distrustful, those pages of Mr. Cross's 
' Life ' containing the letters written from Geneva to 
her English friends are supremely interesting as 
marking one of the happiest, most care-free, and 
cheerful periods in her life. There is a youthful 
spontaneity and enthusiasm in her interpretations of 
people and things which is as delightful as it is 
rare, and makes one feel thankful that this experi- 
ence was hers just when she most needed it. The 
life of devotion to a religion narrow and stern, 
the life of household cares and perplexities, was 
in the past for her, and she had not yet entered 



3oo 



APPENDIX. 



upon the arduous career of literary labor that was 
before her. 

In Geneva, despite more or less illness and difficul- 
ties in obtaining suitable lodgings, she gave herself up 
to the enjoyment of the historic city, and began to 
believe in the good intention of the world about her. 
She filled her letters to England with bits of gossip 
in school-girl style. With charming naivete she wrote 
in one letter : " You would not. know me if you saw 
me. The Marquise took on her the office of femme 
de chambre, and dressed my hair one day. She has 
abolished all my curls, and made two things stick out 
on each side of my head like those on the head of 
the Sphinx. All the world says I look infinitely bet- 
ter; so I comply, though to myself I seem uglier 
than ever — if possible." . . . "The Marquis is the 
most well-bred, harmless of men. He talks very 
little — every sentence seems a terrible gestation, and 
comes iotth. fortissimo." ..." The gray-headed gen- 
tleman got quite fond of talking philosophy with me 
before he went." ..." For the first day I lay in bed 
I had the whole female world of Plongeon in my 
bedroom, and talked so incessantly that 1 was unable 

to sleep after it." . . . " M. de H would be a 

nice person if he had another soul added to the one 
he has by nature — the soul that comes by sorrow 
and love." ..." I make no apology for writing all 
my peevishness and follies, because I want you to do 
the same — to let me know everything about you, to 
the aching of your fingers — and you tell me very 
little." . . . "There are no better jokes going than 
I can make myself." . . . Mme. Ludwigsdorff " sends 
me tea when I wake in the morning — orange-flower 
water when I go to bed — grapes — and her maid to 
wait on me." ..." The tea of the house is execrable ; 
or, rather, as Mrs. A. says, ' How glad we ought to 
be that it has no taste at all; it might have a very 



APPENDIX. 



301 



bad one ! ' . . . Mrs. A., a very ugly but ladylike 
little woman, who is under an infatuation ' as it re- 
gards ' her caps — always wearing the brightest rose- 
color or intensest blue — with a complexion not 
unlike a dirty primrose glove." 

That side of George Eliot's personality especially 
emphasized by Mr. Cross in the final summary of her 
life — her power of inspiring the confidence of those 
whom she met so that they poured into her sym- 
pathetic ears their grievances, frustrated ambitions, 
and hopes, is illustrated in the letters of this short 
Geneva period. Mr. Cross says that " probably few 
people have ever received so many intimate con- 
fidences from confidants of such diverse habits of 
thought." To the Brays George Eliot wrote from 
Geneva that Mme. Ludwigsdorff " has told me her 
troubles and her feelings, she says, in spite of herself; 
for she has never been able before in her life to say 
so much even to her old friends. It is a mystery 
she cannot unravel. . . . People who are dressing 
elegantly and driving about to make calls every day 
of their lives have been telling me of their troubles — 
their utter hopelessness of ever finding a vein worth 
working in their future life." That "rather-waspish" 
Mrs. Locke confided in her also, petted her beyond 
all expectation, and although there are almost no 
statements, such as these just quoted, elsewhere in 
the volume, the atmosphere which brought people to 
her with confidences must have always been a part 
of her. Once, many years later, she wrote to some 
one saying, " Everybody tells me of themselves." 

" If human beings would but believe it, they do me 
the most good by saying to me the kindest things 
truth will permit." While this statement might nat- 
urally be true of the whole wide world of human be- 
ings, yet it was particularly and peculiarly applicable 
to the Marian Evans who wrote these words from 



302 



APPENDIX. 



Geneva to her English friends, and of the " George 
Eliot" who longed for all the kindness and love the 
world had to give. The affection that she craved 
seemed to have been lacking in her early life, so that 
it came to her as something to be wondered at, as 
well as deeply thankful for, that when she went to Ge- 
neva, a stranger ailing and despondent, she found af- 
fectionate friendships awaiting her. " I am perfectly 
comfortable ; everyone is kind to me and seems to 
like me." ..." It was worth while to be ill to have 
so many kind attentions." 

The most delightful of all her Geneva friends were 
Monsieur and Madame D'Albert, who acted " as if 
they wished me to like their friends and their friends 
to like me." ..." I am in an atmosphere of love 
and refinement ; even the little servant Jeanne seems 
to love me." . . . "She [Madame D'Albert] kisses me 
like a mother, and I am baby enough to find that a 
great addition to my happiness." It was at the time 
of her early acquaintance with the Brays that she had 
said, " I really begin to recant my old belief about 
the indifference of all the world towards me, for my 
acquaintances of this neighborhood seem to seek an 
opportunity of smiling on me in spite of my heresy." 

The beginning of her London life marked a change 
in the ties between George Eliot and the Brays. A 
letter which she wrote at this time to Sara Hennell, 
assuring her of her present and future great affection, 
seems to have been occasioned by some reproach 
on the part of Miss Hennell that George Eliot in her 
new and broader life was forgetful of her old friends. 
" I love you more than ever, not less. ... It is im- 
possible that I should ever love two women better 
than I love you and Cara." Notwithstanding this 
assertion, while not loving her Rosehill friends less, 
she was finding new friends, occupations, and pleas- 
ures which made the former not less dear but less 



APPENDIX. 



303 



necessary to her well-being. Chief among her 
London acquaintances was Herbert Spencer, who was 
just making himself strongly felt in literary and philo- 
sophic circles. " My brightest spot, next to my love 
of old friends, is the deliciously calm, new friendship 
that Herbert Spencer gives me. We see each other 
every day." Spencer says that their being seen to- 
gether so frequently gave rise to the report that they 
were engaged to be married, which he denies. 
George Eliot found him "a good, delightful creature," 
but asserted that " we have agreed that we are not in 
love with each other, and that there is no reason why 
we should not have as much of each other's society 
as we like." 

In his autobiography Herbert Spencer, in writing 
of George Eliot, speaks of " Miss Evans whom 
you have heard me mention as the translatress of 
Strauss and as the most admirable woman, mentally, I 
ever met. ... In physique there was, perhaps, a trace 
of that masculinity characterizing her intellect ; for 
though of but the ordinary feminine height, she was 
strongly built. The head, too, was larger than is 
usual in women. It had, moreover, a peculiarity dis- 
tinguishing it from most heads, whether feminine or 
masculine ; namely, that its contour was very regular. 
. . . Striking by its power when in repose, her face 
was remarkably transfigured by a smile . . . with her 
smile there was habitually mingled an expression of 
sympathy. . . . Her voice was a contralto of rather 
low pitch and I believe naturally strong, . . . but 
the habit of subduing her voice was so constant, that 
I suspect that its real power was rarely, if ever, heard. 
Its tones were always gentle and, like the smile, sym- 
pathetic. . . . She complained of being troubled by 
double consciousness — a current of self-criticism 
being an habitual accompaniment of anything she 
was saying or doing; and this naturally tended 



304 



APPENDIX. 



toward self-depreciation and self-distrust. Prob- 
ably it was this last trait that prevented her from 
displaying her powers and her knowledge. . . . How 
great both were there is now no occasion to tell any- 
one. An extraordinarily good memory and great 
quickness of apprehension made acquisition of every 
kind easy ; and along with this facility of acquisition 
there went an ability to organize that which she ac- 
quired, though not so great an ability . . . her spec- 
ulative faculty was critical and analytic rather than 
sympathetic. Even as it was, however, her philosoph- 
ical powers were remarkable. I have known but few 
men with whom I could discuss a question in philos- 
ophy with more satisfaction. Capacity for abstract 
thinking is rarely found along with capacity for con- 
crete representation, even in men ; and among wo- 
men, such a union of the two as existed in her, has, 
I should think, never been paralleled." 

It was through Herbert Spencer that George Eliot 
and Mr. Lewes came to know each other, and when 
the latter had succeeded in winning her liking, in 
spite of herself, as she put it, all other friendships be- 
came of secondary importance, and the wish expressed 
by her a number of years before to Mrs. Bray was 
realized : " The only ardent hope for my future life 
is to have given to me some woman's duty — some 
possibility of devoting myself where I may see a 
daily result of pure, calm blessedness in the life of 
another." 

The new life of union with Mr. Lewes was begun 
by George Eliot not knowing but that she would be 
deprived of all her former friends. Because of 
this possibility, she had resolved that when they 
should return to London after their brief sojourn in 
Germany they would see and visit with only those who 
voluntarily chose to seek them out. She wrote to 
Mrs. Bray : " I wish it to be understood that I 



APPENDIX. 



305 



should never invite any one to come and see me who 
did not ask for the invitation." 

Another rule of her new life was that of denying 
herself what would have been in some cases a burden 
and in others a pleasure, — the exchanging of calls and 
visits with her London friends. Her ill-health and 
her literary work made this prohibition a necessity, 
and also kept her from communicating with her friends 
by letter as much as they would have liked. Even 
such long-standing friends as Miss Hennell received 
from her only brief bits now and then, which while 
breathing the atmosphere of the earlier affection yet 
told little of her inner self. It was a sad disappoint- 
ment to George Eliot to find that she must, for her 
own happiness, keep herself out of her letters, since 
she had been so often misunderstood and misquoted 
from them. Early in her new life she wrote to 
Mrs. Peter Taylor : " I have suffered so much from 
misunderstanding created by letters, even to old 
friends, that I never write on private personal matters, 
unless it be a rigorous duty or necessity to do so. . . . 
Life is too precious to be spent in this weaving and un- 
weaving of false impressions, and it is better to live 
quietly on under some degree of misrepresentation 
than to attempt to remove it by the uncertain process 
of letter- writing." 

Among George Eliot's woman friends not already 
mentioned who were always faithful correspondents, 
were Mrs. Houghton, her half-sister ; Mrs. Congreve, 
Madame Bodichon, and Madame Belloc. Fanny 
(Mrs. Houghton) was the only member of her 
father's family with whom there existed a long-con- 
tinued congenial friendship, although George Eliot 
was always lovingly interested in what concerned both 
Isaac and Chrissey ; and when the latter's husband 
died, leaving her with several children, George Eliot 
gave to her generously of her money, sympathy, and 
20 



3 o6 APPENDIX. 

advice. Chrissey's long silence toward her younger 
sister was pathetically broken by a letter written 
shortly before she died of consumption, in which she 
regretted deeply that through her action they had 
become such strangers to each other. Many years 
later, when George Eliot became the wife of Mr. 
Cross, her brother, too, broke the silence which he 
had allowed to exist between them. But while 
George Eliot never gave anything but kindness and 
love to her own family, it was by outside friends that 
she herself was most beloved, and to whom she gave 
most love. 

Her love and friendship for Mrs. Congreve, who was 
a daughter of the Dr. Bury who attended her father 
in his last illness, was something more human and 
womanly than her affection for others. For a time 
they were near neighbors as well as close friends, and 
even when distance and years separated them, George 
Eliot could pay her this tribute : " The other day 
I said to Mr. Lewes, ' Every now and then it comes 
across me, like the recollection of some precious 
little store laid by, that there is a Mrs. Congreve in 
the world.' " 

Madame Bodichon, whom George Eliot first knew 
as Miss Barbara Smith, brought into her secluded 
life the atmosphere of the busy outside world. She 
was continually in the midst of petitions to Parliament 
and schemes for the proper education of women, and 
being a woman of rare sympathy and energy, won 
a warm place in George Eliot's affections, as well as 
arousing her interest in current reform and philan- 
thropy. Madame Bodichon alone of George Eliot's 
friends recognized her as the author of ' Adam Bede.' 
Even the Brays, who had known George Eliot longer 
and perhaps more intimately than Madame Bodi- 
chon, were overwhelmed with surprise when she 
revealed herself to them as 'George Eliot.' 



APPENDIX. 



307 



George Eliot's letters and confidential talks to her 
journal do not reveal such personalities as her habits 
or choice in eating and drinking : they leave us in 
ignorance as to her favorite colors and flowers, and 
whether she preferred as a pet an Angora cat or a 
poodle dog. However, they do show most interest- 
ingly that her chief pastime was music, and that it 
became the one passion of her life, outside of her 
literary work and her love of home. Her famil- 
iarity with the piano dated from her fourth year, 
when she played without knowing one note, in order 
to impress the servant with a proper notion of her 
acquirements and generally distinguished position. 

When thirteen years of age, " her enthusiasm for 
music was already very strongly marked, and her 
music-master . . . soon had to confess that he had 
no more to teach her." At Miss Franklin's school, 
" when there were visitors, Miss Evans, as the best 
performer in the school, was sometimes summoned 
to the parlor to play for their amusement, and though 
suffering agonies from shyness and reluctance, she 
obeyed with all readiness, but, on being released, my 
mother has often known her to rush to her room and 
throw herself on the floor in an agony of tears." 

Since music was one of this busy woman's few 
pastimes, it is not strange that her open Sundays 
should so frequently have been devoted to music with 
celebrated musicians as performers, and this fact 
doubtless was an added attraction to the visitors who 
met Mr. Lewes and his famous wife in their quiet 
home. George Eliot's love of music exceeded her 
theoretical knowledge, however, as is shown by her 
erroneous reference to principles of harmony in one 
of her novels. 

It seems impossible to imagine a person more sen- 
sitive to external influences than was George Eliot. 
No matter how comfortably housed she was, nor how 



3o8 



APPENDIX. 



much loved by those within the shelter of the house, 
a cold rain driven cityward by a chill ocean wind — 
rains such as London, where her home was oftenest 
made, excelled in — could drive her to melancholy 
and headaches, and unfit her for her literary work. 
Even those gray masses of fog which came without 
wind or rain and beat noiselessly upon the walls of 
London houses, could counteract perhaps a whole 
week of days of sunshine and optimism, and bring 
the mood which would cause her to write to a friend 
that the fog reduced her faith in all good and lovely 
things to its lowest ebb. " Yesterday it rained, and 
of course I said cut bono ? and found my troubles 
almost more than I could bear ; to-day the sun 
shines, consequently I find life very glorious," is 
typical of the comments which show the effect of 
cloud and sunshine on her. There is as much 
of earnestness as of playfulness in her summary of 
her woes as " fog, east wind, and headache." 

Since she realized so well that for her " the soul's 
calm sunshine ... is half made up of the outer 
sunshine," and that London afforded such small, 
and at best intermittent, supplies of it, one wonders 
that the greater part of her busy life should have been 
spent there where she could be so tormented. In 
writing from London to a friend who was recuper- 
ating in the country, she said that " the wide sky, the 
not London, makes a new creature of me in half an 
hour." After her definite connection with the West- 
minster Review was ended in April, 1854, just before 
she went to live with Mr. Lewes, the necessity for 
her presence in London did not exist. Mr. Lewes, 
too, had severed his formal connection with The 
Leader, and while both his work and that of George 
Eliot were wholly along literary and journalistic lines, 
such pursuits need not have languished in a sunnier, 
more fogless atmosphere. Yet, either because of 



APPENDIX. 



309 



Mr. Lewes's attachment to the city, or because neither 
realized the supreme influence of climatic environ- 
ment upon the sensitive woman, their headquarters 
remained at London, while they made many brief 
sojourns on the Continent and at places of recreation 
in England. Mr. Cross speaks of the almost imme- 
diate change in her physical condition when in Italy 
and elsewhere under sunny skies. When she looked 
forward to a return to friends in England, after a long 
sojourn in Geneva, she wrote of her uncontrollable 
eagerness to be once again face to face with those 
whom she loved. But when she had written of her 
eagerness she seemed to have turned to look out 
upon southern blueness, sunshine, and warmth, and 
realized what it would mean to leave what her very 
being so yearned for, and wrote that it made her 
shudder to think of returning to England, which 
seemed like " a land of gloom, of ennui, of platitude." 
Of her Geneva life she said, " I have always had a 
hankering after this sort of life, and I find it was a 
true instinct of what would suit me." 

Just as the cold and mist were things to be dreaded 
in George Eliot's life, the moaning or howling of the 
wind was a torment to her. In the later years of her 
life, when her health was largely shattered, she looked 
forward to physical improvement when the winds 
should have rested from their " tormenting impor- 
tunity." To her the winds were demon-gods, " cruelly 
demanding all sorts of human sacrifices. . . . It seems 
something incredible written in my memory that when 
I was a little girl I loved the wind — used to like to 
walk about when it was blowing great guns." It is 
easy for us to imagine her thus, for a child of her 
intense nature who was filled with vague but potent 
longings, restlessnesses, and ambitions, and who felt 
all the force of a man's genius struggling in her shrink- 
ing girlish frame, but whom circumstances in the way 



3io 



APPENDIX. 



of an isolated life, parents not unloving but unappre- 
ciative of her nature, and few books to read, could 
find only exhilaration in buffeting the winds and ad- 
verse circumstances as well. 

A significant feature of George Eliot's home life 
was the harmonious relation existing between herself 
and Mr. Lewes's three sons. The completeness of 
her conquest of their boyish allegiance could not be 
more convincingly shown than in the fact that they 
addressed her as ' Mother.' In one of her letters to 
a married woman she said that when the three stal- 
wart boys in their family called her mother, she felt 
that she was entitled to the respect from the world 
usually accorded a married woman. 

George Eliot lived no life of self-indulgence, as she 
put it, but with the stimulus which the new life 
brought with it worked diligently, early and late, at 
the pen in order that her literary work might be a 
credit to herself and bring in the necessary funds for 
their own living expenses, the education of Mr. 
Lewes's sons, and the support of their mother. At 
first, and while the boys were away at school in 
Germany, the Lewes's lodgings were of the simplest 
character, their pleasures and recreations were found 
in inexpensive walks and little excursions undertaken 
for purposes of work, for acquiring specimens, or 
from similar motives ; but when her writing began to 
give her greater confidence in herself and brought 
her a sufficient money return, they rented a whole 
house, so that the boys should have a home to come 
to, and one in which they could receive their friends. 
One can feel no regret that those years, and especially 
the very first years of her union with Mr. Lewes, were 
years of hard work and rigid economy, for it was only 
by such means that she could find contentment and 
happiness. A life shorn of stern duties and necessary 
labors would have had no attraction for her ; and her 



APPENDIX. 



311 



new life, making Mr. Lewes's obligations her own, 
caused only a feeling of eagerness to meet them bravely 
and efficiently. With our knowledge of her slavish 
devotion to duty in whatever form it came, her success 
in mothering the boys and stimulating them to useful 
lives was to have been expected. 

George Eliot helped to select a suitable school for 
the boys, the place chosen being Hofwyl, where all 
three — Charles, Thornton, and Herbert — remained 
until their preliminary education was completed. 
Charles, being the eldest, seems to have carried on 
the correspondence with the "little Pater" and their 
foster mother. Several bits from George Eliot's letters 
to Charles show how true a mother's love and interest 
she gave to these boys. " If I am able to go on 
working, I hope we shall afford to have a fine grand- 
piano. ... I like to know that you were gratified by 
getting a watch so much sooner than you expected ; 
and it was the greater satisfaction to me to send it to 
you, because you had earned it by making good use 
of these precious years at Hofwyl. It is a great com- 
fort to your father and me to think of that, for we, 
with our old grave heads, can't help talking very often 
of the need our boys will have for all sorts of good 
qualities and habits in making their way through this 
difficult life. . . . Tell Thornton he shall have the 
book he asks for, if possible — I mean the book of 
moths and butterflies ; and tell Bertie I expect to 
hear about the wonderful things he has done with his 
pocket-knife. . . . We shall hope to hear a great deal 
of your journey, with all its haps and mishaps. . . . 
You are an excellent correspondent, so I do not fear 
you will flag in writing to me." ..." I fear you will 
miss a great many things in exchanging Hofwyl, with 
its snowy mountains and glorious spaces, for a very 
moderate home in the neighborhood of London. You 
will have a less various, more arduous life : but the 



312 



APPENDIX. 



time of Entbehrung or Entsagung must begin, you 
know, for every mortal of us. And let us hope that 
we shall all — father and mother and sons — help one 
another with love." 

Charles, after completing his studies in Germany, 
took and passed successfully the post-office examina- 
tions in London and made his home with his parents 
until his marriage. His engagement gave great 
pleasure to George Eliot, who found it " very pretty 
to see the happiness of a pure first love, full at present 
of nothing but promise." Thornton went to Natal, 
Africa, but was brought back after six years, wasted 
with illness. Though a special nurse attended him 
constantly, the time of the family was chiefly absorbed 
in caring for him : and even in the midst of her 
trouble and anxiety for the boy George Eliot wrote to 
a friend that there was joy in her heart because there 
was nothing unlovable in the sufferer to check her 
tenderness towards him. On the night on which he 
died she wrote in her journal these lines, which are 
a tribute to his disposition and home-training as well 
as to her tenderness for him : " Through the six 
months of his illness his frank, impulsive mind dis- 
closed no trace of evil feeling. He was a sweet- 
natured boy, still a boy, though he had lived for 
twenty-five years and a half. . . . This death seems 
to me the beginning of our own." 

Knowing what we do of George Eliot's gentle, 
home-loving nature and the nobility of her character, 
the words which Henry James wrote describing the 
impression which her home made upon an outsider 
express what we feel ought to be true. Those who 
had aocess to her home during the years at the 
Priory (1863-1880) "remember well a kind of 
sanctity in the place, an atmosphere of stillness and 
concentration, something that suggested a literary 
temple." 



APPENDIX. 313 



GEORGE ELIOT AT WORK 

George Eliot's student days were confined to no 
period of her life, but extended from the early days 
when she read at her father's knee and stored away 
in her mind the tale of ' Ivanhoe ' and Daniel Defoe's 
strange book, ' The History of the Devil,' up to the 
last years when she and Mr. Cross studied Italian 
together, she acting more as teacher than co-learner. 
Her early music-teacher, a poor man with nerves, 
used to find that one of the few rewards of his pro- 
fession and diligence at the girls' school which George 
Eliot attended, was to listen to her well-prepared 
exercises and scales. To have so won the regard of 
a teacher, as Marian Evans did that of Miss Lewis, a 
governess at Miss Wallington's school, which she 
attended before she was thirteen years old, that a 
strong friendship should grow up between them and 
continue for more than ten years, tells plainly that 
her studiousness had especially commended her to 
her teachers. Her eagerness in devouring books of 
a substantial nature obtained for her the privilege of 
borrowing from the library of the Newdigates, by 
whom her father was employed. For a time, under 
the influence of Miss Lewis, her reading and study 
was confined to religious topics. She read with par- 
ticular enjoyment Hannah More's letters, quoted 
Doddridge and Young's ' Infidel Reclaimed,' and 
found the ' Life of Wilberforce ' "a rich treat." In 
one letter to Miss Lewis she mentioned the reading 
of ' Pascal,' an essay on ' Schism ' by Professor Hop- 
pus, Milner's 'Church History,' and the Rev. W. 
Gresley's ' Portrait of an English Churchman.' 

In her twentieth year she seems to have been 
taking account of stock of the possessions of her 
mind and summarized them thus : " disjointed spp- 



3H 



APPENDIX. 



cimens of history, ancient and modern; scraps of 
poetry picked up from Shakespeare, Cowper, Words- 
worth, and Milton ; newspaper topics ; morsels of 
Addison and Bacon, Latin verbs, geometry, ento- 
mology, and chemistry ; reviews and metaphysics — 
all arrested and petrified and smothered by the 
fast-thickening everyday accession of actual events, 
relative anxieties, and household cares and vexations." 

With the encouragement and suggestive help of 
this same Miss Lewis she undertook in 1840, and 
soon became thoroughly engrossed in, the prepara- 
tion of a chart of ecclesiastical history, which she 
hoped to print. " The profits arising from its sale, if 
any, will go partly to Attleborough Church, and 
partly to a favorite object of my own." However, 
the chart was never completed, for one similar to 
that which she had planned was almost immediately 
published by Seeley and Burnside. " I console all 
my little regrets by thinking that what is thus evi- 
denced to be a desideratum has been executed much 
better than if left to my slow fingers and slower head. 
I fear I am laboriously doing nothing, for I am be- 
guiled by the fascination that the study of languages 
has for my capricious mind." This same year she 
became proficient in German and Italian. 

George Eliot's acquaintance with the Brays and 
Miss Sara Hennell soon resulted in a change, — a 
broadening in her reading, studying, and earnest 
work. Miss Hennell, especially, was a constant in- 
spiration because of her thorough, scholarly ways. 
Intimate association with such people as those at 
Rosehill, where men and women of education and 
culture were frequent guests, was an excellent prep- 
aration for her duties as associate editor of the 
Westminster Review. There she learned what hard 
literary drudgery was, for although she did original 
writing in the way of book-reviewing, and responsible 



APPENDIX. 



315 



work in helping the editor, Dr. Chapman, to plan 
his prospectuses, there were long hours of proof- 
reading and revising which left their trace at the 
week's end in headaches and backaches. But this 
new London life was replete with compensations, 
among which were the soirees, where she met the 
distinguished London literary lights, and also formed 
friendships with such persons as Herbert Spencer 
and Harriet Martineau, who were " short-sighted 
enough to like one," so that she had opera and 
theatre parties galore. 

In the summer of 1855, while she and Mr. Lewes 
were still away from London, she wrote an article on 
Cumming for the Westminster Review, which caused 
Mr. Lewes to tell her some time after its writing that " it 
convinced him [for the first time] of the true genius 
in her writing." This article seems to have aroused 
much discussion and comment, for she wrote in Oc- 
tober of that year to Charles Bray : " Since you have 
found out the ' Cumming,' I write by to-day's post 
just to say that it is mine. . . . The article appears 
to have produced a strong impression, and that im- 
pression would be a little counteracted if the author 
were known to be a woman." 

It was just a year later, in September, 1856, that 
George Eliot was led into her first modest attempt 
at fiction writing, and she can best tell in her own 
words what we are interested to know of this new 
literary departure of hers: "September, 1856, made 
a new era in my life, for it was then I began to write 
fiction. It had always been a vague dream of mine 
that some time or other I might write a novel ; and 
my shadowy conception of what the novel was to be 
varied, of course, from one epoch of my life to 
another. But I never went further towards the 
actual writing of the novel than an introductory 
chapter describing a Staffordshire village and the life 



316 APPENDIX. 

of the neighboring farmhouses ; and as the years 
passed on I lost any hope that I should ever be able to 
write a novel, just as I desponded about everything 
else in my future life. I always thought I was defi- 
cient in dramatic power, both of construction and 
dialogue, but I felt I should be at my ease in the 
descriptive parts of a novel. My 'introductory chap- 
ter ' was pure description, though there were good 
materials in it for dramatic presentation. It hap- 
pened to be among the papers I had with me in 
Germany, and one evening at Berlin something led 
me to read it to George. He was struck with it as 
a bit of concrete description, and it suggested to him 
the possibility of my being able to write a novel, 
though he distrusted — indeed, disbelieved in — my 
possession of any dramatic power. Still, he began 
to think that I might as well try sometime what I 
could do in fiction, and by and by when we came 
back to England, and I had greater success than he 
ever expected in other kinds of writing, his impres- 
sion that it was worth while to see how far my mental 
power would go towards the production of a novel 
was strengthened. He began to say very positively, 
'You must try and write a story,' and when we were 
at Tenby he urged me to begin at once. I deferred 
it, however, after my usual fashion with work that 
does not present itself as an absolute duty. But one 
morning, as I was thinking what should be the sub- 
ject of my first story, my thoughts merged themselves 
into a dreamy doze, and I imagined myself writing a 
story, of which the title was ' The Sad Fortunes of 
the Reverend Amos Barton.' I was soon wide awake 
again and told G. He said, ' Oh, what a capital 
title ! ' and from that time I had settled in my mind 
that this should be my first story. George used to 
say, ' It may be a failure — it may be that you are 
unable to write fiction. Or, perhaps, it may be just 



APPENDIX. 



317 



good enough to warrant your trying again." Again, 
' You may write a chef-d'ceuvre at once — there 's no 
telling.' But his prevalent impression was that though 
I could hardly write a poor novel, my effort would 
want the highest quality of fiction — dramatic pres- 
entation. He used to say, 'You have wit, descrip- 
tion, and philosophy — those go a good way towards 
the production of a novel. It is worth while for you 
to try the experiment.' 

" We determined that if my story turned out good 
enough we would send it to Blackwood ; but G. 
thought the more probable result was that I should 
have to lay it aside and try again. 

" But when we returned to Richmond I had to 
write my article on ' Silly Novels,' and my review of 
contemporary literature for the Westminster, so that 
I did not begin my story till September 22. After I 
had begun it, as we were walking in the park, I men- 
tioned to G. that I had thought of the plan of writing 
a series of stories, containing sketches drawn from my 
own observations of the clergy, and calling them 
' Scenes from Clerical Life,' opening with ' Amos 
Barton.' He at once accepted the notion as a good 
one — fresh and striking ; and about a week after- 
wards, when I read him the first part of ' Amos,' he 
had no longer any doubt about my ability to carry out 
the plan. The scene at Cross Farm, he said, satisfied 
him that I had the very element he had been doubt- 
ful about — it was clear I could write good dialogue. 
There still remained the question whether I could 
command any pathos ; and that was to be decided 
by the mode in which I treated Milly's death. One 
night G. went to town on purpose to leave me a 
quiet evening for writing it. I wrote the chapter from 
the news brought by the shepherd to Mrs. Hackit, 
to the moment when Amos is dragged to the bed- 
side, and I read it to G. when he came home. We 



3 i8 APPENDIX. 

both cried over it, and then he came up to me and 
kissed me, saying, ' I think your pathos is better than 
your fun.' " 

Several years before this first essay at fiction 
Herbert Spencer had, with apparent non-success, 
pointed out to George Eliot her fitness for fiction 
writing. " It was, I presume, her lack of self-confi- 
dence which led her, in those days, to resist my sug- 
gestion that she should write novels. I thought I saw 
in her many, if not all, of the needful qualifications in 
high degrees. . . . But she would not listen to my 
advice. She did not believe that she had the required 
powers." 

George Eliot had once remarked that if she ever 
wrote a book she would make a present of it to no- 
body. And this was her rule, which, however, she 
did not always strictly keep, her first attempt in fic- 
tion being the most notable exception, for she sent 
author's copies to some half-dozen people, anony- 
mously, of course, through her publisher. Dickens 
wrote to thank her, conjecturing that the author was 
a woman ; J. A. Froude did not know whether he 
was " addressing a young man or an old — a clergy- 
man or a layman," but never doubted the male sex 
of the writer ; while Jane Carlyle wrote that she con- 
ceived of the author as " a man of middle age, with a 
wife, from whom he has got those beautiful feminine 
touches in his book — a good many children, and a 
dog that he has as much fondness for as I have for my 
little Nero." By refraining from sending author's 
copies of her works to friends and prominent persons 
she relieved herself of the necessity of hearing their en- 
forced praise or censure, from which she instinctively 
shrank. " I hate obligate reading and obligato talk 
about my books. / never send them to anyone, and 
never wish to be spoken to about them, except by an 
unpremeditated, spontaneous prompting. . . . Per- 



APPENDIX. 



319 



haps the annoyance I suffered [alluding to the Lig- 
gins affair] has made me rather morbid on such points ; 
but, apart from my own weaknesses, I think the less 
an author hears about himself the better." 

Realizing the unpleasant and unprofitable effect of 
knowing what was being said about what she wrote, she 
resolved to be unheedful of outside criticism. Yet 
one of the disturbing elements of the quiet tete-a-tete 
home life of George Eliot and Mr. Lewes was that 
influx of magazines, newspapers, and letters from 
friends and strangers which the appearance of each of 
her books occasioned anew. The tide of criticism 
could not be stayed, but instead of treating the critics 
with the indifference which one might well show 
toward the existence of a necessary evil, she gave it 
the place in her home of a bugaboo. It disturbed 
her far more than it should to know that there were 
critics, whether well-meaning or not, who objected to 
the marriage of Dinah Morris and Adam Bede, who 
found flaws in the dialect of the Warwickshire peas- 
ant folk, and who explained the bright epigrammatic re- 
marks of her characters as remembered conversation. 
In a letter George Eliot remarked that " Mr. Lewes 
examines the newspapers before I see them, and cuts 
out any criticisms which refer to me, so as to save me 
from these spiritual chills — though, alas ! he cannot 
save me from the physical chills which retard my 
work more seriously." 

In spite of his efforts, however, to so carefully 
shield her, and notwithstanding her frequent asser- 
tions to friends that it was her habit, " strictly ob- 
served," never to read criticisms on her books, yet 
there is ample evidence in her published correspond- 
ence that her almost morbid eagerness to know 
whether her books were producing the desired effect of 
helpfulness and inspiration caused her to indulge her- 
self in a small occasional allowance of unvarnished 



320 



APPENDIX. 



criticism. But the result was always to sadly upset 
her, both mentally and physically, and bring to her 
a feeling of discouragement similar to that produced 
by the damp fog and chill winds of London, although 
she once remarked that she had " self-conceit enough 
to believe that she knew better than the critics." 

The effect of criticisms would not have been so det- 
rimental to her health if they had simply aroused 
her indignation at the displays of ignorance or lack of 
tact, as was sometimes the case. After Lord Lytton 
had called upon her and ventured some criticisms in 
person, she confided to her journal that night that he 
had found two defects in Adam Bede, — the dialect 
and Adam's marriage to Dinah, " but, of course, I 
would have my teeth drawn rather than give up 
either." And elsewhere she spoke of the " damnatory 
praise of ignorant journalists," which seem harsh 
words to have come from the demure, Quakerish 
woman ; but it was better for her to give vent to her 
feelings thus than, as so often, to let the careless words 
sink into her sensitive heart, where she would brood 
over them until they assumed the proportion of huge 
dark shadows of despair, spreading over all her future 
career. In view of the fact that the general censure 
and praise which must be the portion of every writer 
so heavily oppressed her, it is a keen disappointment 
to us that even when fame was assured, it brought no 
real pleasure to her. But she herself said in a letter, 
in 1859, that she did not regret that fame brought 
her no happiness, she only grieved that she derived 
no strength from her sense of thankfulness that her 
life was not utterly useless. Earlier than this she 
had written to her publisher, " I perceive that I have 
not the characteristics of the e popular author,' and yet 
I am much in need of the warmly expressed sympathy 
which only popularity can win." 

To have accomplished so much notable fiction 



APPENDIX. 



331 



writing in the comparatively short period of twenty 
years (185 6-187 6) has naturally aroused ardent curi- 
osity as to the ways and means of the accomplish- 
ment of the work ; but the letters and journal extracts 
in Mr. Cross's ' Life ' show more of the difficulties 
that had to be overcome, due to lack of self-con- 
fidence, ill-health, and a scrupulously painstaking 
conscience, than of the actual helps that she enjoyed. 
The greatest stimulus was Mr. Levves's firm belief 
in .her genius, his sympathetic help and practical 
suggestions ; but just how far his practical suggestions 
have contributed to the real excellence of her writings 
is a matter of dispute. 

The publication of George Eliot's books in several 
volumes made the cost to the reader that of a luxury 
out of reach of the working-man. After a time 
cheaper editions were printed, but when her books 
were being most discussed and advertised the poor 
man might have his interest aroused, but it had to 
remain unsatisfied, and in view of this fact it is 
certainly disappointing in the great author to learn 
her attitude toward those who wished to buy cheap 
editions of her books. The following letter which she 
received soon after the publication of ' Adam Bede ' 
illustrates the strength of the discontent at the high 
prices attached to her two books. 

" Dear Sir, — I got the other day a hasty read of 
your ' Scenes of Clerical Life ' and since that a glance 
at your ' Adam Bede,' and was delighted more than 
I can express ; but being a poor man, and having 
enough to do to make ' ends meet,' I am unable to 
get a read of your inimitable books. Forgive, dear 
sir, my boldness in asking you to give us a cheap 
edition. You would confer on us a great boon. I 
can get plenty of trash for a few pence, but I am 
sick of it. I felt so different when I shut your books, 
even though it was but a kind of ' hop-skip-and- 



322 



APPENDIX. 



jump ' read. I feel so strongly in this matter that I 
am determined to risk being thought rude and 
officious and write to you." 

After the appearance of ' Felix Holt ' George Eliot 
received a letter from an American travelling in 
Europe, who gave the history of one copy of that 
book, showing the large number of people who had 
read it eagerly. Upon reading this she half petu- 
lantly said, " it seems people now-a-days economize 
in nothing but books," and a few days later she wrote 
to her publisher : " It is rather a vexatious kind of 
tribute when people write, as my American corre- 
spondent did, to tell me of one paper-covered Ameri- 
can copy of ' Felix Holt ' being brought to Europe 
and serving for so many readers that it was in danger 
of being worn away under their hands. He, good 
man, finds it easy ' to urge greater circulation by 
means of cheap sale,' having ' found so many friends 
in Ireland anxious but unable to obtain the book.' 
I suppose putting it in a yellow cover with figures on 
it, reminding one of the outside of a show, and 
charging a shilling for it, is what we are expected to 
do tor the good of mankind. Even then I fear it 
would hardly bear the rivalry of ' The Pretty Milliner,' 
or of 'The Horrible Secret.' " 

While continually cautioning her publisher against 
cheapness or vulgar display in advertising, she never- 
theless had the financial success of her literary off- 
spring at heart quite as truly as she did their moral 
influence. This is shown by her eager chronicling of 
the sales of each book in its turn, rejoicing at each 
extra 500 copies sold, and feeling that the world was 
full of sunshine when she learned that the fourth 
edition of 'Adam Bede,' of 5000 volumes, had been 
sold in a fortnight. She approved of modestly plac- 
arding at railway stations, " for Ruskin was never 
more mistaken than in asserting that people have no 



APPENDIX. 



323 



spare time to observe anything in such places. I am 
a very poor reader of advertisements, but even I am 
forced to get them unpleasantly by heart at the 
stations." 

The extreme secretiveness which George Eliot 
maintained in regard to her prospective writing was 
equalled only by her reluctance to talk of her books 
when completed. There is no room for misunder- 
standing the spirit of the letters she wrote to Charles 
Bray on this topic, nor how deeply rumors could dis- 
turb her. The extract which follows is from a letter 
written after the appearance of ' Scenes of Clerical 
Life,' but before ' Adam Bede ' was in print and no 
one except Major and John Blackwood knew the 
identity of ' George Eliot.' " When do you bring out 
your new poem? I presume you are already in the 
sixth canto. It is true you never told me you intended 
to write a poem, nor have I heard any one say so who 
was likely to know. Nevertheless I have quite as 
active an imagination as you, and I don't see why I 
should n't suppose you are writing a poem as well as 
you suppose that I am writing a novel. Seriously, I 
wish you would not set rumors afloat about me. They 
are injurious. Several people, who seem to derive 
their notions from Ivy Cottage [Bray's House] have 
spoken to me of a supposed novel I was going to 
bring out. Such things are damaging to me. . . . 
There is no undertaking more fruitful of absurd mis- 
takes than that of ' guessing ' at authorship ; and as I 
have never communicated to any one so much as an 
intention of a literary kind, there can be none but 
imaginary data for such guesses. If I withhold any- 
thing from my friends which it would gratify them to 
know, you will believe, I hope, that I have good 
reasons for doing so, and I am sure those friends will 
understand me when I ask them to further my object 
— which is not a whim but a question of solid interest 



324 



APPENDIX. 



— by complete silence. I can't afford to indulge 
either in vanity or sentimentality about my work. I 
have only a trembling anxiety to do what is in itself 
worth doing, and by that honest means to win very 
necessary profit of a temporal kind. ' There is noth- 
ing hidden that shall not be revealed ' in due time. 
But till that time comes — till I tell you myself, 
' This is the work of my hand and brain ' — don't 
believe anything on the subject. There is no one who 
is in the least likely to know what I can, could, should, 
or would write." 

Akin to this impulse to secrete from the world of 
friends and acquaintances her literary projects was 
her unwillingness to give to her publisher more than 
fragmentary outlines of her stories. She demanded 
that upon the quality of what he had seen and heard 
he should trust the excellence of the remainder. This 
attitude she took even with her earliest efforts at 
fiction writing. But while refusing to send out advance 
announcements of her plans, it was not because she 
had not thoroughly mapped out her work in her own 
mind. She always saw the end before making any 
disclosures. " My stories grow in me like plants, and 
this is only in the leaf-bud [referring to ' The Mill on 
the Floss '] . I have faith that the flower will come. 
Not enough faith, though, to make me like the idea of 
beginning to print till the flower is fairly out — till I 
know the end as well as the beginning." 

Although there was constant variation in her faith 
in herself and an almost incredible lack of faith in 
the success of her fiction writing, even after the real 
critics had passed approval upon ' Adam Bede,' yet 
she applied herself persistently to her work, taking 
only short periods of rest. ' Scenes of Clerical Life,' 
'Adam Bede,' 'The Mill on the Floss,' and 'Felix 
Holt ' were each written within a year's time, while 
4 Romola,' ' Middlemarch,' and ' Daniel Deronda' 



APPENDIX. 



325 



consumed an average of two years each. The short 
time between the commencement and the end of her 
stories would show that there were few backward 
steps in her work. One chapter of 'Amos Barton' 
was written at a sitting. "The opening of the third 
volume [' Adam Bede '] — Hetty's journey — was, I 
think, written more rapidly than the rest of the book, 
and vvas left without the slightest alteration of the 
first draught. Throughout the book I have altered 
little." 

Sometimes the writing went more slowly. In her 
journal she wrote that after two months of writing she 
was only at the sixty-second page of ' Silas Marner,' 
" for I have written slowly and interruptedly," and the 
continued slow progress of this " story of old-fashioned 
village life " distressed her with the fear that she was 
getting " slower and more timid " in her writing. The 
last eleven pages of ' The Mill on the Floss ' were 
" written in a furor, but I dare say there is not a 
word different from what it would have been if I had 
written them at the slowest pace." In regard to the 
scene in ' Middlemarch ' between Dorothea and Rosa- 
mond, Mr. Cross said that George Eliot " always knew 
they had, sooner or later, to come together, [yet] she 
kept the idea resolutely out of her mind until Doro- 
thea was in Rosamond's drawing-room. Then, aban- 
doning herself to the inspiration of the moment, she 
wrote the whole scene exactly as it stands, without 
alteration or erasure, in an intense state of excitement 
and agitation, feeling herself entirely possessed by the 
feelings of the two women." It was a " not herself," 
as she expressed it, that took possession of her in all 
that she considered her best writing, and hurried her 
pen unerringly over the pages. 

Yet while diligence and persistence characterized 
her work in writing, " hurry " was a trait neither of 
herself nor of her literary work. Mr. Cross said that 



326 APPENDIX. 

" in her personal bearing George Eliot was seldom 
moved by the hurry which mars all dignity in action." 
She wrote of her work on ' The Mill on the Floss ' to 
Mr. Blackwood : " But you may rely on it that no 
amount of horse-power would make me hurry over 
my book, so as not to do my best. If it is written 
fast, it will be because I can't help writing it fast." 
It was not impossible, however, for her to alter, con- 
dense, expand, or rearrange at the suggestion of 
others ; and except on vital points she was singularly 
open to suggestions and criticisms from Mr. Lewes and 
Mr. Blackwood, whose judgments she highly respected. 
When she had written into the second volume of 
' Adam Bede,' Mr. Lewes " expressed his fear that 
Adam's part was too passive throughout the drama, 
and that it was important for him to be brought into 
more direct collision with Arthur. This doubt haunted 
me, and out of it grew the scene in the wood between 
Arthur and Adam ; the fight came to me as a necessity 
one night at the Munich opera." She had to feel the 
necessity for the presence of everything which found 
a place in her stories, whether the product of her 
own mind or suggestions from others. Mr. Lewes 
also suggested the first scene at the farm. 

When she received Sir Edward Lytton's critical 
estimate of her ' Mill on the Floss,' she accepted his 
criticisms on two points. " First, that Maggie is 
made to appear too passive in the scene of quarrel in 
the Red Deeps. If my book were still in MS., I 
should — now that the defect is suggested tome — 
alter, or rather expand, that scene. Secondly, that 
the tragedy is not adequately prepared. This is a 
defect which I felt even while writing the third volume, 
and have felt ever since the MS. left me. The 
Epische Breite, into which I was beguiled by love of 
my subject in the two first volumes, caused a want of 
proportionate fulness in the treatment of the third, 



APPENDIX. 



327 



which I shall always regret." However, she felt no 
sympathy with his criticism of Maggie's attitude 
towards Stephen. " If I am wrong there — if I did 
not really know what my heroine would feel and do 
under the circumstances in which I deliberately 
placed her, I ought not to have written this book 
at all." 

No novelist has been more conscientious than was 
George Eliot in her work, which she did with all seri- 
ousness and with the highest conception of the de- 
mands of writing as an art. The conscientiousness 
with which she wrote is best illustrated in ' Romola.' 
A few weeks after she had begun the book she came 
to a standstill, having been " detained from writing 
by the necessity of gathering particulars : first, about 
Lorenzo di Medici's death ; second, about the pos- 
sible retardation of Easter; third, about Corpus 
Christi day ; fourth, about Savonarola's preaching in 
the Quaresima of 1492." These topics give one an 
idea of the multitude of questions that arose in the 
construction of this story, and they also indicate to 
those who have had experience in this time-consuming 
kind of research the enormous labor that she took 
upon herself in order to insure historical accuracy. 
This very laboriousness unquestionably took from the 
story the spontaneity that is necessary to give to a -\|ork 
of fiction its highest value. 

While George Eliot made use of real material 
throughout her literary life, yet she became less de- 
pendent on it and relied more upon her inner con- 
sciousness as she proceeded. Her most impersonal 
works are ' Silas Marner ' and ' The Spanish Gypsy.' 
Concerning her growth and choice of field, she said : 
" I do wish much to see more of human life — how 
can one see enough in the short years one has to 
stay in the world ? But I meant that at present my 
mind works with the most freedom and the keenest 



328 APPENDIX. 

sense of poetry in my remotest past, and there are 
many strata to be worked through before I can 
begin to use, artistically, any material I may gather 
at present." The monotonously tame, almost level 
nature of the Warwickshire country had little in it to 
inspire a spontaneous love of nature and so fill an 
author's mind that it would make its way to the front 
in her writings. Nevertheless George Eliot used it 
as a scenic background to her actors. The nervous 
strain in the production of some of those writings 
that came from her own life was very great. Remi- 
niscences weighed down her spirits, and the mental 
living over again of portions of her life brought de- 
pression. Then with the great success of ' Adam 
Bede,' and the resulting influence of her pen she felt 
a greatly increased responsibility. It was under such 
a spell that she wrote to Major Blackwood : " I am 
assured that ' Adam Bede ' was worth writing — 
worth living through long years to write. But now it 
seems impossible to me that I shall ever write any- 
thing so good and true again. I have arrived at 
faith in the past, but not faith in the future." 

Notwithstanding her continued ill-health, George 
Eliot was able to give long periods of continuous 
study to subjects requiring great mental strain. To 
her wonderful memory she was indebted for the vast 
fund of knowledge that she had acquired through 
observation, reading, and conversation, which was at 
her disposal in her work as a writer. However, ac- 
cording to Mr. Cross, " her verbal memory was not 
always to be depended on. She could never trust 
herself to write a quotation without verifying it." 
One of the remarkable qualities of her mind was the 
genius for taking pains, which is shown not only by 
the slowness of composition but by the care with 
which she has prepared her facts. She believed that 
carelessness in authorship was " a mortal sin." She 



APPENDIX. 



329 



was apparently able to write under almost any con- 
ditions : thus ' Mr. GilfiPs Love-Story ' was finished 
in the Scilly Islands, where ' Janet's Repentance ' was 
begun, but the latter was mainly written on the 
Island of Jersey. She wrote in London lodging- 
houses, in the country near London, in Germany, 
Spain, and Italy. She had chosen the responsibilities 
of a literary career, and neither ill-health, mental de- 
pression, nor residence could keep her from her duty 
which was also her chosen work. 

With the display of brain power and knowledge in 
her works, we may pertinently ask why George Eliot 
escaped being a pedant. It was because there was, 
in addition to the intellectual side, a human side 
almost equally well developed. It was her unusual 
powers of reflection, added to a keen and sympathetic 
spirit, that enabled her, living, as she did, almost the 
life of a recluse, to people her mind with persons and 
distant places and times with the vividness displayed 
in her writings. 

George Eliot, while deeply thankful for the money 
returns of her work, and while reaping true satisfac- 
tion from the work itself, wrote to influence to nobler 
living her audience of readers. She thus expressed 
her purpose in writing : " I have had the heart-cut- 
ting experience that opinions are a poor cement be- 
tween human souls ; and the only effect I ardently 
long to produce by my writings is, that those who 
read them should be better able to imagine and to 
feel the pains and the joys of those who differ from 
themselves in everything but the broad fact of being 
struggling, erring, human creatures." 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 
GEORGE ELIOT'S WORKS 

1. ' The Life of Jesus/ critically examined by D. F. Strauss. 

Translated from the fourth German edition (by Marian 
Evans. The translator's name does not appear). 
3 vols. London, 1846. 

2. ' The Essence of Christianity.' By L. Feuerbach. Trans- 

lated from the second German edition by Marian 
Evans. London, 1854. 

3. ' Scenes of Clerical Life.' Blackwood's Edinburgh Maga- 

zine, January-November, 1857. Reprinted in 2 vols. 
Edinburgh, December, 1857. 

4. ' Adam Bede.' 3 vols. Edinburgh, 1859. 

5. ' The Lifted Veil.' Blackwood 's Edinburgh Magazine, 

July, 1S59. 

6. ' The Mill on the Floss.' 3 vols. Edinburgh and London, 

i860. 

7. ' Silas Marner : the Weaver of Raveloe.' Edinburgh and 

London, 186 1. 

8. ' Romola.' Cornhill Magazine, July, 1862-August, 1863. 

3 vols. Smith, Elder & Co., London. July, 1863. 

9. 'Brother Jacob.' Cornhill Magazine, Vol. X. pp. 1-32. 

1864. 

10. ' Felix Holt, the Radical.' 3 vols. Edinburgh and Lon- 

don, 1866. 

11. 'The Spanish Gypsy,' a poem. Edinburgh and London, 

i868._ 

12. ' How Lisa Loved the King,' a poem. Blackwood's Edin- 

burgh Magazine, May, 1869. 

13. ' Agatha,' a poem. Atlantic Monthly, August, 1869. Lon- 

don, 1869. 

14. ' The Legend of Jubal,' a poem. Macmillan's Magazine, 

May, 1870. 

15. ' Middlemarch,' a study of provincial life. 4 vols. Edin- 

burgh, 1871-2. Issued in twelve monthly parts, begin- 
ning in December. 

16. 'Armgart,' a poem. Macmillan's Magazine, Vol. XXIV. 

pp. 161-187. July, 1871. 



332 



BIBLIOGRAPHY, 



17. ' The Legend of Jubal, and other Poems.' Edinburgh, 

1874. ' Agatha,' ' Armgart,' ' How Lisa Loved the 
King,' ' A Minor Prophet,' ' Brother and Sister,' ' Stra- 
divarius,' 'Two Lovers,' 'Anon/ 'Oh May I Join the 
Choir Invisible ! ' Second Edition, 1879, including 
also ' A College Breakfast Party/ ' Self and Life/ 
' Sweet Evenings/ ' Come and go, Love/ and ' The 
Death of Moses.' 

18. ' Daniel Deronda.' 4 vols. Edinburgh and London, 1876. 

19. ' A College Breakfast Party,' a poem. Macmillau's Mag- 

azine, Vol. XXXVIII. pp. 161-179. 1878. 

20. 'Impressions of Theophrastus Such.' Edinburgh and 

London, 1879. 

21. 'Essays' and 'Leaves from a Note-Book.' (Edited by 

C. L. Lewes.) Edinburgh, 1884. 

22. ' George Eliot's Life/ as related in her letters and jour- 

nals. Arranged and edited by her husband, J. W. 
Cross. Edinburgh and London, 1885. 

REVIEWS AND MINOR ARTICLES 

The following articles and reviews, with the exceptions 
specifically noted, appeared in the Westminster Review (desig- 
nated W. ./?.). The article on Margaret Fuller Ossoli, men- 
tioned by Mathilde Blind, is not included, as its authorship is 
not certain. 

Mackay's ' Progress of the Intellect/ W. R., Vol. LIV. pp, 
353-368. 1851. 

Carlyle's ' Life of Sterling/ W. R., Vol. I., New Series, pp, 
247-251. January, 1852. 

1852-3, Assistant editor of the Westminster Review. 

' Woman in France/ Madame de Sable. W. R., Vol. VI. pp 
448-473. October, 1854. 

' Prussia and Prussian Policy ' (Stahr). W. R., Vol. VII 

l8 55- 

' Three Months in Weimar/ Rrazer's Magazine, Vol. LI 
pp. 699-706. 1855. 

' Vehse's ' Court of Austria.' W. R., Vol. VII. pp. 383-385 
1855. 

' Dryden and his Times/ W. R., Vol. VII. pp. 336-367 

1855- 

' Evangelical Teaching/ Dr. Cumming. W. R., Vol. VIII 
pp. 436-462. October, 1855. 

' German Wit : Heinrich Heine.' W. R., Vol. IX. pp 
1-33. January, 1856. 

' The Natural History of German Life.' W. R., Vol. X. pp 
51-79. July, 1856. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 333 

' Silly Novels by Lady Novelists.' W. R., Vol. X. pp. 442- 
461. October, 1856. 

' Worldliness and Other-Worldliness — the Poet Young.' 
W. R., Vol. XL pp. 1-42. January, 1857. 

' The Influence of Rationalism.' Lecky's History. Fort- 
nightly Review, Vol. I. pp. 43-55. 1865. 

' Address to Workingmen,' by Felix Holt. Blackwood's 
Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. CIII. pp. 442-461. January, 1868. 

After the death of Lewes, George Eliot edited his ' Mind as 
a Function of the Organism ' and ' Study of Psychology.' 

COMPILATIONS 

The following compilations have been made from George 

Eliot's works : 

Character Readings from ' George Eliot.' Selected and ar- 
ranged by N. Sheppard. New York [1883]. 8vo. No. 293 
of " Harper's Franklin Square Library." Edinburgh and 
London [1878]. 

The George Eliot Birthday Book. Edinburgh and London 
[1878]. 8vo. 

Wise, witty, and tender sayings, in prose and verse, selected 
from the works of George Eliot by A. Main. Edinburgh, 
1872. 8vo. Fourth edition, enlarged. Edinburgh and 
London, 1880. 8vo. 



GEORGE ELIOT BIOGRAPHY AND 
CRITICISM 

The importance of George Eliot in the world of 
letters is shown by the large amount of bibliograph- 
ical material that has appeared concerning her and 
her works, and which even at this day is constantly 
receiving additions. Few authors and certainly no 
other English woman of letters have been so much 
written about. Several bibliographical lists have been 
published, chief of which is that by Mr. John P. 
Anderson of the British Museum. 

The chief titles of that list which was published in 
Oscar Browning's ' Life of George Eliot ' in 1890 are 
reproduced here, together with such additions as we 
have been able to collect. 



334 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



The books and essays concerning George Eliot, or 
the George Eliot criticism in the broadest use of the 
word, have diverged into a number of channels which 
it is of interest to mention here. 

In the first place there is the matter which treats 
of George Eliot's life, both as an individual and an 
author. Then there is that which is devoted ex- 
clusively to her literary work, either as a whole 
or in detail ; and finally that which pertains to her 
personal life and opinions. To these must be added 
the excerpts and special arrangements of certain of 
her writings. 

The critical writings on George Eliot's works em- 
brace detailed criticism of each work and an expres- 
sion of opinion as to their position in literature, and 
on the following points : on the art and the literary 
skill displayed in them ; on their general tone of 
morals and thought, and the influence that the writ- 
ings will have in these respects ; on their precepts 
and influence in matters of religious faith ; on their 
historical and geographical truthfulness ; on the use 
of dialect ; on the success of the attempts at com- 
position in verse ; on treatment of Judaism and the 
Jewish question ; and on the philosophical principles 
laid down ; identification of characters in the Mid- 
land stories ; comparison of the collected and indi- 
vidual works with those of other authors, — Carlyle, 
Sand, Kingsley, Miss Austen, Hawthorne, and 
Shakespeare ; church views of the principal of her 
characters and her precepts ; humor ; ideal ethics as 
propounded by her ; the clergy, married people, 
rustics, and children of the novels ; political sympa- 
thies and affiliations of her characters ; edited editions 
of some of her books with analytical and critical 
notes for student use. 

The writer on specific points in George Eliot's 
personal life has taken up : her religious beliefs 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



335 



(these articles have been chiefly in the nature of 
attacks) ; the matter of her two marriages and moral 
and social questions at issue in the first matrimonial 
connection ; George Eliot as a Christian, as a moral 
teacher, as a novelist, as a poet ; comparisons of 
George Eliot's personal life with that of other prom- 
inent writers ; the church view of her life and example ; 
her life as illustrative of the religious ideas of our time ; 
travels ; home life ; the life depicted in her novels as 
compared with her own life. 

BIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM 

ARRANGED BY AUTHORS 

Acton, Lord. — George Eliot. Nineteenth Century, 1885. 

Adams, W. H. Davenport. — Celebrated Englishwomen of the 
Victorian Era. 2 vols. London, 1884. Vol. II. pp. 86-182. 

Ames, Charles Gordon. — George Eliot's Two Marriages. An 
essay. Philadelphia, 1886. 

Axon, William E. A. — Stray Chapters in Literature, Folk- 
lore, and Archaeology. Manchester, 1888. George Eliot's 
Use of Dialect, pp. 161-168. Papers of the Manchester 
Literary Club, 1881, p. 129. 

Baildon, H. B. — George Eliot, Moralist and Thinker. Round 
Table Series. Edinburgh, 1887. 

Barine, Arvede. — Portraits de Femmes: Madame Carlyle — 
George Eliot, etc. Paris, 1887. 

Belloc, Madame. — Dorothea Casaubon. In a Walled Gar- 
den. Vol. I. London, 1896. 

Bibliography of George Eliot. — Hodgkin's Nineteenth Cen- 
tury Authors. Cooke's George Eliot. Browning's George 
Eliot. C. W. Sutton, Papers of the Manchester Literary 
Club, 1881, p. 97. 

Blashfield, E. H. & Evangeline Wilbour. — Italian Cities. In 
Florence with Romola. 2 vols. New York, 1900. 

Blind, Mathilde. — George Eliot. London and Boston, 1883. 
Part of the Eminent Women Series, edited by J. H. Ingram. 

Bolton, Sarah K. — Lives of girls who became famous. New 
York [1S87]. pp. 213-239. 

Bonnell, H. H. — Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot, Jane Austen. 
1902. 

Bray, Charles. — Phases of Opinion and Experience during a 
Long Life : an Autobiography, pp. 72-78. London, 1884. 



33<5 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



Brown, John Crombie. — The Ethics of George Eliot's Works, 

etc. Edinburgh, 1879. Reprinted Philadelphia, 1885, with 

an introduction by C. G. Ames, author of George Eliot's 

Two Marriages. 
Browne, Matthew. — George Eliot's Complete Poems, with 

Introduction. Boston, 1887. 
Brownell, W. C. — Victorian Prose Masters. Including 

George Eliot. New York, 1901. 
Browning, Oscar. — Life of George Eliot. London, 1890. 
Buchanan, Robert. — A Look round Literature. London, 

1887. A Talk with George Eliot, pp. 218-226; George 

Eliot's Life, pp. 314-321. 
Cleveland, Rose Elizabeth. — George Eliot's Poetry and other 

Studies. London, 1885. 
Cone, Helen Gray, and Gilder, Jeannette L. — Pen-Portraits 

of Literary Women. 2 vols. New York [1888]. Vol.11. 

pp. 245-292. 
Conrad, Hermann. — George Eliot : Ihr Leben und Schaffen, 

etc. Berlin, 1887. 
Cooke, George Willis. — George Eliot : a Critical Study of her 

Life, Writings, and Philosophy. London, 1883. 
Cooke, G. W. — Scenes of Clerical Life. Life of author. Bos- 
ton, 1886. 
Cross, J. W. — George Eliot's Life. 3 vols. Edinburgh, 

1885. New York, Harper, 1885. 
Darmsteeter, J. — Life and Letters of George Eliot. English 

Studies, pp. 97-1 1 1. London, 1896. 
Dawson, W. J. — Quest and Vision : Essays in Life and Liter- 
ature, pp. 158-195. London, 1886. 
Dowden, Edward. — Studies in Literature, 1789-1877. ' George 

Eliot,' pp. 240-272 ; ' Middlemarch' and ' Daniel Deronda,' 

pp. 273-310. London, 1878. 
Dronsart, Marie. — Portraits d'Outre-Manche, pp. 213-289. 

Paris, 1886. 
Druskowitz, H. — Drei englische Dichterinnen Essays, pp. 

149-242. Berlin, 1885. 
Edwards, Matilda Bentham. — Reminiscences. London, 1887. 

Includes George Eliot. 
Eggleston, E. — George Eliot and the Novel. Essays from 

Critic, p. 49. 
Eliot, George. — ' Janet's Repentance.' Printed in raised 

letters for the blind. Boston, 1891. Also 'Silas Marner.' 

Boston, 1882. 
Eliot, George. — Essays. Analysis. Funk & Wagnall. 1883. 
Eliot, George. — Essays and Reviews not heretofore printed. 

Introductory essay on the Genius of George Eliot. Boston, 

1887. 
Eliot, George, on George Meredith. In Nicoll and Wise's 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 337 

Literary Anecdotes of the Nineteenth Century. Vol. II. 
pp. 173-187. London, 1896. 

Eliot, George. — The Round Table Series, II. George Eliot, 
Moralist and Thinker. Edinburgh, 18S4. 

Eminent Persons, Vol. II. p. 232. 

Espinasse, F. — Literary Recollections and Sketches, p. 273. 
London, 1893. 

Field, Mrs. H. M. — George Eliot at Home. Home Sketches, 
p. 208. New York, 1875. 

Forman, H. B. — Living Poets, p. 469. London, 1871. 

Griswold, Hattie Tyng. — Home Life of Great Authors, 
pp. 351-362. Chicago, 1887. 

Gulick, Edward L. — Silas Marner. Edited with Notes and 
Introduction. New York, 1899. 

Hamilton, Catherine J. — Women Writers, Vol. II. p. 216. 
London, 1892-93. 

Harlin, Thomas. — Selections from Lord Macaulay, Robert 
Browning, George Eliot, and James Russell Lowell, as pre- 
scribed for the matriculation examination at the Melbourne 
University, with notes. Melbourne, 1891. 

Harrison, Frederic. — The Choice of Books, and other liter- 
ary pieces. London, 1886. pp. 203-230; reprinted from the 
Fortnightly Review, March, 1885. 

Harrison, F. — Studies in Early Victorian Literature, p. 205. 
London, 1895. 

Hazeltine, Mayo W. — Chats about Books, Poets, and Novel- 
ists, pp. 1-13. New York, 1883. 

Henley, W. E. — Views and Reviews, p. 130. New York, 1S90. 

Herrick, Robert. — Silas Marner. Edited with Notes and In- 
troduction. New York, 1896. 

Herrick, S. B. — Essays and Introduction. Boston, 1887. 

Herrick, S. B. — Genius of George Eliot. Essays, V. 

Heywood, J. C. — How they strike me, these Authors. Phil- 
adelphia, 1S77. An Ingenious Moralist, pp. 57-77. 

Hubbard, E. — Literary Journeys, Vol. I. p. 1. New York, 
1895. 

Huet, C. Busken. — Litterarische Fantasien en Kritieken. 
Haarlem [1883]. 8vo. pp. 105-134. 

Hutton, Richard Holt. — Essays, Theological and Literary, 
Vol. II. pp. 294-367. London, 1871. 

Hutton, Richard Holt. — Essays on some of the modern 
Guides of English Thought in Matters of Faith. London, 
1887. George Eliot as Author, pp. 145-258 ; George Eliot's 
Life and Letters, pp. 259-299. 

Jacobs, J. — George Eliot. London, 1891. (From Athenaeum.) 

Jacobs, Joseph. — Jewish Ideals and other Essays. London, 
1S96. Includes George Eliot. 

Jacobs, Joseph. — Essays and Reviews, p. 3. 
22 



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James, Henry. — Partial Portraits. The Life of George Eliot, 

pp. 37-52 ; Daniel Deronda : a Conversation, pp. 65-93. 

London, 1888. 
Jenkin, Fleeming. — Papers, Literary, Scientific, etc. 2 vols. 

Vol. I. pp. 171-174. London, 1887. 
Johnston, R. M. — Married People of George Eliot. Studies, 

Literary and Social, p. 106. Indianapolis, 1891-92. 
Kaufmann, Professor David. — George Eliot and Judaism. 

Translated from the German. Edinburgh, 1877. 
Lancaster, Henry H. — Essays and Reviews. Edinburgh, 

1876. George Eliot's Novels, pp. 351-398; reprinted from 

the A T orth British Review, September, 1866. 
Lanier, Sidney. — English Novel. New York, 1883. 
Lewes, C. L. — Essays. Edinburgh, 1884. 
Lilly, W. S. — Four English Humorists of the Nineteenth 

Century, p. 75. London, 1895. 
Lonsdale, Margaret. — George Eliot ; Thoughts upon her Life, 

her Books, and Herself. London, 1886. 
Lord, J. — Beacon Lights, Vol. V. p. 467. New York, 

1884. 
Magnus, Katie, Lady. — Jewish Portraits. London, 1897. 
Magruder, Julia. — Child Sketches from George Eliot. 

(Glimpses of boys and girls in the romances of the great 

novelist.) Boston, 1895. 
Mallock, W. H. — George Eliot on Human Character. 

Atheism, p. 147. London, 18S4. 
McCarthy, Justin. — Modern Leaders; being a series of Bio- 
graphical Sketches. New York, 1872. George Eliot and 

George Lewes, pp. 136-144 ; appeared originally in the 

Galaxy, Vol. VII. 1869. 
McCrie, George. — The Religion of our Literature. Essays ; 

including the theology of George Eliot, etc. London, 1875. 
Miles, A. H. (J. A. Noble). — Poets of the Century. Vol. VII. 

p. 293. London (n. d.). 
Montegut, Emile. — Ecrivains Modernes de l'Angleterre. 

Paris, 1885, pp. 3-180. 
Morgan, William. — George Eliot: a paper. London, 1881. 
Morley, J. — Life and Letters of George Eliot. Critical Mis- 
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Mortimer, J. — George Eliot as a Novelist. Papers of the 

Manchester Literary Club, p. 116. 188 1. 
Myers, F. W. H. — Essays, Modern, pp. 251-275. London, 

1883. 
Oliphant, Mrs. M. O. W. (E. L. Linton). — Women Novelists 

of Victoria's Reign, p. 61. New York, 1897. 
Olivetti, C. — Daniel Deronda. Versione dall' Inglese fatta 

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Roma, 1882-83. 



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Parkinson, S. — Scenes from the "George Eliot" Country. 
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Parton, James. — Some Noted Princes, Authors, and States- 
men of our Time. Edited by James Parton. A meeting 
with George Eliot by Mrs. John Lillie, pp. 62-65. New 
York, 1886. 

Paul, C. Kegan. — Biographical Sketches, pp. 141-170. Lon- 
don, 18S3. 

Quayle, W. A. — George Eliot as a Novelist. The Poet's 
Poet and other Essays. Cincinnati, 1S97. 

Robertson, Eric S. — English Poetesses, pp. 327-334. Lon- 
don, 1883. 

Roslyn, Guy [pseud. Joshua Hatton]. — George Eliot in Derby- 
shire. Reprinted from " London Society," with alterations 
and additions, and an introduction, by G. Barnett Smith. 
London, 1876. 

Russell, George W. E. — George Eliot : her Genius and Writ- 
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Saintsbury, G. — Corrected Impressions, p. 162. New York, 
1895. 

Samuel, W. — English Humorists. London, 1895. 

Scherer, Edmond. — Etudes Critiques sur la Litterature Con- 
temporaine. Paris, 1S63. George Eliot (Silas Marner), torn. 
I. pp. T7-27; reprinted from the Temps. Daniel Deronda, 
Serie V. pp. 287-304. George Eliot, torn. VIII. pp. 187-242. 

Scherer, E. — Essays on English Literature, p. 251. New 
York, 1 891. 

Schmidt, Julian. — Bilder aus dem Geistigen Leben unserer 
Zeit. 4 Bde. Leipzig, 1870-75. Bd. I. pp. 344-409. 

Scudder, V. D. — Social Conscience and George Eliot. Social 
Ideals in English Letters, p. 180. Boston, 1898. 

Seguin, L. G. — Scenes and Characters from the Works of 
George Eliot. A series of illustrations by eminent artists, 
with introductory essay and descriptive letterpress by L. G. 
Seguin. London, 1888. 

Shepard, Nathan. — Essays, with an Introduction on her 
Analysis of Motives. New York, 1883. 

Shepard, William. — Pen Pictures of Modern Authors. New 
York, 1882. pp. 41-57. 

Silas Marner. School Edition. See Herrick, Witham, Gulick. 

Smalley, Geo. — London Letters and Some Others. Vol. I. 
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Smith, G. B. — Women of Renown, p. 83. London, 1893. 

Solomon, Henry. — Daniel Deronda from a Jewish Point of 
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Taylor, Bayard. — Critical Essays and Literary Notes. New 

York, 1880. pp. 339-347. 
Thorne, W. H. — Modern Idols, p. 136. Philadelphia, 1887. 
Trollope, T. A. — What I Remember, Vol. II. p. 267. Lon- 
don, 1887. 
Underwood, S. A. — Heroines of Free Thought, p. 207. New 

York, 1876. 
Victorian Era. — Queens of Literature of the Victorian Era. 

London, 1886. pp. 185-258. 
Waldstein, C. — Warner Library, Vol. IX. p. 5359. New 

York, 1898. Warner Classics, Vol. II. p. 83. New York, 

1S99. 
Walford, Lucy B. — Twelve English Authoresses, p. 187. 

London, 1892. 
Walsh, W. S. — Pen Pictures of Modern Authors, p. 41. 

New York, 1882. 
Welsh, Alfred H. — Development of English Literature and 

Language. 2 vols. Chicago, 1882. Vol. II. pp. 470-487. 
Whipple, Edwin Percy. — Recollections of Eminent Men, etc. 

Boston, 1887. Daniel Deronda, pp. 344-379 ; George Eliot's 

private life, pp. 380-397 ; appeared originally in the North 

American Review, 1885. 
Wilkinson, William C. — A Free Lance in the Field of Life 

and Letters. New York, 1874. The Literary and Ethical 

Quality of George Eliot's Novels, pp. 1-49. 
Williams, Edward M. — The Lifted Veil. Written in Graham 

standard phonography (with key in common type). New 

York, 1900. 
Wilson, S. L. — Theology of Modern Literature. London, 

1899. 
Witham, R. Adelaide. — Silas Marner. Edited with Intro- 
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Wolzogen, Ernst von. — George Eliot. Eine biographisch- 

kritische Studie. Leipzig, 1885. 
Wotton, Mabel E. — Word Portraits, p. 98. London, 1887. 

MAGAZINE ARTICLES, ETC. 

(After the general works on George Eliot, arranged alphabetically by topics.) 

Eliot, George. Littell's Living Age (from the Saturday Re- 
view), Vol. LVIII. 1858, pp. 274-278. — British Quarterly Re- 
view, Vol. XLV. 1S67, pp. 141-178. — Tinsley's Magazine, Vol. 
III. 1868, pp. 565-578. — Contemporary Review, by E. Dow- 
den, Vol. XX. 1872, pp. 403-422 ; same article, Eclectic 
Magazine, Vol. XVI. N. S. pp. 562-573, and Littell's Living 
Age, Vol. CXV. pp. 100-110. — St. Paul's Magazine, by 
Geo. B. Smith, Vol. XII. 1873, pp. 592-616. — Le Corre- 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



341 



spondant, by G. de Prieux, torn. CIV. 1876, pp. 672-683. — 
Melbourne Review, by Miss C. H. Spence, April, 1876, pp. 
141-163. — Victoria Magazine, Vol. XXXI. 1878, pp. 56-60. 

— Nation, by W. C. Brownell, Vol. XXXI. 1880, pp. 456, 
457. — Nineteenth Century, by Edith Simcox, Vol. IX. 1881, 
pp. 778-801 ; same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. CXLIX. 
pp. 791-805. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 
CXXIX. 1881, pp. 255-26S; same article, Littell's Living Age, 
Vol. CXLVIII. pp. 664-674, and Eclectic Magazine, Vol. 
XXXIII. N. S. pp. 433-443. — London Quarterly Review, 
Vol. LVII. 1881, pp. 154-176. — Cornhill Magazine, by Les- 
lie Stephen, Vol. XLIII. 1881, pp. 152-168; same article, 
Littell's Living Age, Vol. CXLVIII. pp. 731-742, and Eclec- 
tic Magazine, Vol. XXXIII. N. S. pp. 443-455. — Harper's 
New Monthly Magazine, by C. K. Paul (illustrated), Vol. 
LXII. 1881, pp. 912-923 ; reprinted in Biographical Sketches, 
1883. — Century Magazine, by F. W. H. Myers, Vol. XXIII. 
188 1, pp. 57-64. — Literary World, by Peter Bayne, Vol. 
XXIII. N. S. 1881, pp. 25, 26, 40-42, 56-58, 72-74, 89-91, 
104-106, 120-122, 136-138, 152-154, 168-170, 184-186, 200- 
202, 216-218, 232-234, 248-250, 264-266, 280, 281, 296-298, 
3 I2 -3 X 4. 3 28 -33°. 344-346, 377-379, 390-39 2 ; Vol. XXIV. 
pp. 8-10, 73-75, 88-90, 104, 105, 120-122, 136, 137, 152-154, 
169-171, 184-186, 200, 201, 232, 233. — The Congregation- 
alism Vol. X. 1881, pp. 293-299. — Dial (Chicago), by Mar- 
garet F. Sullivan, Vol. I. 1881, pp. 181-183. — Eclectic Mag- 
azine (from the Spectator), Vol. XXXIII. N. S. 1881, pp. 
353-360. — Littell's Living Age (from the Spectator), Vol. 
CXLVIII. 1881, pp. 318-320. — Progress, by J. Robertson, 
Vol. I. 1883, pp. 381-384 ; Vol. II. pp. 57-61 and 1 17-123. — 
Contemporary Review, by Richard H. Hutton, Vol. XLVII. 
1885, pp. 372-391. — Scottish Review, Vol. V. 1885, pp. 250- 
264. — Temple Bar, Vol. LXXIII. 1885, pp. 512-524. — An- 
dover Review, by C. C. Everett, Vol. III. 1885, pp. 519-539. 

— Sunday Magazine, by Mrs. J. Martin, 1885, pp. 231-235. 
— Pall Mall Gazette, January 27, 1885. — Le Livre, by 
Robert du Pontavice de Heussey, January, 1889, pp. 16-32. 

— Atalanta, by Sarah Tytler, July, 1889, pp. 682-686. — 
Bookman, Charles Reade's Opinion of George Eliot, Vol. 
XVIII. p. 252. — Academy, George Eliot, Vol. LXI. p. 175. 

— Conservative Review, E. P. Dargan. — Century Magazine, 
A. Fields, Vol. XXXVI. p. 442. — Scribner's Magazine, 
W. C. Brownell, Vol. XXVIII. p. 711. — Methodist Re- 
view, J. B. Kenyon, Vol. LVII. p. 563. — Nineteenth Cen- 
tury, Paul, H., George Eliot, Vol. LI. p. 932 (1902) ; Eclectic 
Magazine, Vol. CXXXIX. p. 500. — Littell, Vol. CCXXXIV. 
p. 321. — Macmillan's Magazine, Sibbald, W. A., George 
Eliot After Twenty Years, Vol. LXXXVI. p. 357. 



342 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



Eliot, George. Adam Bede. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CX. 1859, 

pp. 223-246. — Westminster Review, Vol. XV. N. S. 1859, pp. 

486-512. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. LXXXV. 

1859, pp. 490-504. — Dublin Review, Vol. XLVII. 1859, 

pp. 33-42. — Hyde, J., Notes from the Country of Adam 

Bede, Gentleman's Magazine, N. S. Vol. LXI. p. 15; 

Eclectic Magazine, Vol. CXXXI. p. 336; Littell's, Vol. 

CCXVIII. p. 508. 
Dinah Morris and Mrs. Elizabeth Evans. Century, 

by L. Bulkley, Vol. XXIV. 1882, pp. 550-552. 
Adam Bede and Parson Christian. Gentleman's 

Magazine, by Ferrar Fenton, Vol. CCLXII. 1887, pp. 

392-407. 
Adam Bede a7id Recent Novels. Bentley's Quarterly 

Review, Vol. I. 1859, pp. 433-472. 
Adam Bede's Library. Book-Lore, Vol. II. 1885, 

pp. 96-99. 
and Miss Azcsten. National Review, by T. E. Kebbel, Vol. 

II. 1883, pp. 259-273. 

— and Poetry. Argosy, by Matthew Browne, Vol. II. 1866, 

PP- 437-443- 
Art of. By O. Browning. Fortnightly, Vol. XLIX. p. 

538. — Eclectic, Vol. CX. p. 762. 
Mind, by James Sully, Vol. VI. 1881, pp. 378-394; 

Fortnightly Review, by Oscar Browning, Vol. XLIII. N. S. 

1888, pp. 538-553- 
Bray on. Spectator, January 10, 1885; same article, 

Critic (New York), January 31, 1885, pp. 56, 57. 
— and Carlyle. Modern Review, by George Sarson, Vol. 

II. 1881, pp. 399-413.— Nation, by J. Bryce, Vol. XXXII. 

1881, pp. 201, 202. 

and Jane W. Carlyle. By A. I. Ireland. Gentleman's 

Magazine, N. S. Vol. XL. p. 229. 
——and Dorothea Casaubon. By B. R. Belloc. Contempo- 
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CC. p. 728. — Eclectic Magazine, Vol. CXXII. p. 373. 

Catholic View of. Month, Vol. XLII. 1881, pp. 272- 

278. 

as a Character Artist. By M. B. Whiting. Westminster 

Review, Vol. CXXXVIII. p. 406. 

Children in Novels of. Macmillan's Magazine, by Annie 

Matheson, Vol. XLVI. 1882, pp. 488-497 ; same article, Lit- 
tell's Living Age, Vol. CLV. pp. 211-219, and Eclectic Mag- 
azine, Vol. XXXVI. N. S. 1882, pp. 822-830. 

as a CJi7-istian. Contemporary Pulpit, Vol. II. 1884, 

pp. 179-183. 

Clematis and Ivy. A Record of Early Friendship, by 

W. G. Kingsland, Poet-Lore, Vol. VI. pp. 1, 57, 182. 



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Eliot, George, The Clergy as drawn by. Charing Cross, by E. 

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1877, pp. 446-47I- 
and her Correspondents. Pall Mall Gazette; repr. Critic, 

October 2, 1886, pp. 163-164. 
Country and Country Characters of. Time, by James 

Purves, Vol. XXI. p. 379. 
County of. Century Magazine, by Rose G. Kingsley, 

Vol. XXX. 1885, pp. 339-352. 
Criticisms on Contemporaries by. Lippincott's Magazine 

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in Derbyshire. London Society, by Guy Roslyn, Vol. 

XXVII. 1875, pp. 31 1-319, 439-451, Vol. XXVIII. pp. 20-27. 
Reprinted 1876. 

Daniel Deronda. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CXLIV. 1876, 

pp. 442-470. — Fortnightly Review, by Sidney Colvin, Vol. 
XX. N. S. 1876, pp. 601-616. — British Quarterly Review, 
Vol. LXIV. 1876, pp. 472-492 ; same article, Eclectic Mag- 
azine, Vol. XXIV. N. S. pp. 657-667. — Gentlemaja's Mag- 
azine, by R. E. Francillon, Vol. XVII. N. S. 1876, pp. 410- 
427. — Atlantic Monthly, by Henry James, Jr., Vol. 
XXXVIII. 1876, pp. 684-694. — North American Review, by 
E. P. Whipple, Vol. CXXIV. 1877, pp. 31-52. — Gentle- 
man's Magazine, by J. Picciotto, November, 1876, pp. 593- 
603. — Victoria Magazine, by A. S. Richardson, Vol. 

XXVIII. 1876, pp. 227-231. — Canadian Monthly, Vol. IX. 
1876, pp. 250, 251, 343, 344; Vol. X. pp. 362-364. — 
Nation, by A. V. Dicey, Vol. XXIII. 1876, pp. 230, 231, 
245, 246. — Saturday Review, Vol. XLII. 1876, pp. 356-358. 
— Deutsche Rundschau, by Wilhelm Scherer, Vol. X. 1877, 
pp. 240-255. 

Deronda 's Mother. Temple Bar, Vol. XLIX. 1877, 

pp. 542-545 ; same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. 
CXXXIII. pp. 248-250, and Eclectic Magazine, Vol. XXV. 
N. S. pp. 751-753- 

Mordecai : a Protest against the Critics. Macmil- 

lan's Magazine, by J. Jacobs, Vol. XXXVI. 1877, pp. 101- 
iii ; same article, Littell ; s Living Age, Vol. CXXXIV. 
pp. 112-121. 

Early Life of. Littell's Living Age (from the Pall Mall 

Gazette), Vol. CXLVIII. 1881, pp. 381-383. 

Essays. Athenseum, February 23, 1884, pp. 241-243; 

same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. CLX. pp. 762-766. — 
Spectator, March 1, 1884. — Saturday Review, March 8, 
1884. — Academy, by H. C. Beeching, March 15, 1884. 

Ethics of. Harvard Monthly, by R. M. Lovett, Vol. X. 

p. 142. 



344 



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Eliot, George, Ethics of. Catholic World, by G. P. Curtis, Vol. 
LXXVI. p. 217. 

Ideal Ethics of. Spectator ; repr. Littell's Living Age, 

Vol. CXLII. 1879, pp." 123-125. 

Surrender of Faith. British and Foreign Evangelical 

Review, by W. G. Blackie, Vol. XXXV. 1886, pp. 38-65. 

Felix Holt. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CXXIV. 1S66, pp. 

435-449; same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. XCI. pp. 
432-439. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. C. 1866, 
pp. 94-109. — Westminster Review, Vol. XXX. N. S. 1866, 
pp. 200-207. — Contemporary Review, Vol. III. 1866, pp. 
51-70. — London Quarterly Review, Vol. XXVII. 1866, pp. 
100-124. — North American Review, by A. G. Sedgwick, 
Vol. CIII. 1866, pp. 557-563. — Nation, by Henry James, Jr., 
Vol. III. 1866, pp. 127, 128. — Eclectic Review, Vol. XL 
N. S. 1866, pp. 34-47- — Chambers's Journal, 1866, pp. 508- 
512. — Christian Remembrancer, Vol. LII. N. S. 1866, pp. 
445-468. 

First Romance of. Gentleman's Magazine, by R. E. 

Francillon, Vol. XVII. N. S. 1876, pp. 410-427. 

Genius of. Dublin Review, by William Barry, Vol. V. 

3rd Series, 1881, pp. 371-394. — Southern Review, by Mrs. 
S. B. Herrick, Vol. XIII. 1873, pp. 205-235. 

on the Gospel. Christian World, February 28, 1884. 

arid Nathaniel Hawthorne. North British Review, Vol. 

III. i860, pp. 165-185. 

Home and Hatcnts of. By G. Morley, Art Journal, Vol. 

XLIX. p. 233. — By A. H. Leach, Munsey, Vol. XII. p. 753. 

Humour of. Spectator, January 31, 1885, pp. 146, 147; 

same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. CLXIV. pp. 638-640. 
— Critic, Vol. X. p. 69. 

was she a Hypocrite. By Mrs. Van R. Cruger. Cosmo- 
politan, Vol. XX. p. 312. 

and Kingsley. Literary World, October 15, 1886. 

and George Henry Lewes. Galaxy, by J. McCarthy, Vol. 

VII. 1869, pp. 801-809; repr. Modern Leaders, 1872. 

Life and Writings of International Review, by W. F. 

Rae, Vol. X. pp. 447, etc., 497, etc. — Westminster Review, 
Vol. LX. N. S. 1881, pp. 154-198. 

Life of, illustrative of the Religious Ideas of our Time. 

British and Foreign Evangelical Review, by J. R. Thomson, 
Vol. XXXIV. 1885, pp. 517-543. 

Cross's Life of. Atlantic Monthly, by Henry James, 

Vol. LV. 1885, pp. 668-678. — Blackwood's Edinburgh 
Magazine, Vol. CXXXVII. 1885, pp. 155-176. — British 
Quarterly Review, Vol. LXXXI. 1885, pp. 316-333. — Con- 
gregationalism Vol. XIV. 18S5, pp. 275-284. — Contem- 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



345 



porary Review, by R. H. Hutton, Vol. XLVII. 1885, pp. 
372-391 ; same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. CLXV. 
pp. 3-T5. — Critic (New York), February 7, 1885, pp. 62, 
63. — Dial (Chicago), by R. Johnson, Vol. V. 1885, pp. 
289-291. — Edinburgh Review, Vol. CLXI. 1S85, pp. 514- 
553. — Fortnightly Review, by Frederic Harrison, Vol. 
XXXVII. N. S. 1885, pp. 309-322 ; reprinted in " The 
Choice of Books," etc., 1886; same article, Littell's Living 
Age, Vol. CLXV. pp. 23-31. — Gentleman's Magazine, by 
H. R. Fox Bourne, 1885, pp. 257-271. — London Quarterly 
Review, Vol. LXIV. 1885, pp. 197-222. — Macmillan's 
I Magazine, by John Morley, Vol. LI. 1885, pp. 241-256 ; same 
article, Eclectic Magazine, Vol. CIV. pp. 506-520, and Littell's 
Living Age, Vol. CLXIV. pp. 533-546. — Nation, by A. V. 
Dicey, Vol. XL. 1885, pp. 283, 284, 325, 326. — New Eng- 
ender, by F. H. Stoddard, Vol. XLIV. 1885, pp. 523-530.— 
Nineteenth Century, by Lord Acton, Vol. XVII. 1885, pp. 
464-485. — Pall Mall Gazette, January 27 and February 9, 
1885. — Pictorial World, February 5 and 12, 1885. — Record, 
January 30, 1885. — Saturday Review, February 7, 18S5. — 
Spectator, January 31, 1885. — Time, Vol. XII. 1885, pp. 
374-377. — Times, January 27 and February 2, 1885. — 
Westminster Review, Vol. LXVIII N. S. 1885, pp. 161-208. 

Eliot, George, Literary and Ethical Quality of Novels of. 
Scribner's Monthly, by W. C. Wilkinson, Vol. VIII. 1874, 
pp. 685-703. 

Later Manner of. Canadian Monthly, Vol. XL 1878, pp. 

261-268. 

Married People of. Catholic World, by R. M. Johnston, 

Vol. XL. 1885, pp. 620-634. 

on Mental Decay. Knowledge, by R. A. Proctor, August 

14, 1885, pp. 127-129. 

Middlemarch. Quarterly Review, Vol. CXXXIV. 1873, 

pp. 336-369. — Edinburgh Review, Vol. CXXXVII. 1873, 
pp. 246-263. — Fortnightly Review, by Sidney Colvin, Vol. 
XIII. N. S. 1873, pp. 142-148. — Blackwood's Ediuburgh 
Magazine, Vol. CXII, 1872, pp. 727-745; same article, 
Littell's Living Age, Vol. CXVI. pp. 131-145, and Eclectic 
Magazine, Vol. XVII. N. S. pp. 215-228. — British 
Quarterly Review, Vol. LVII. 1873, PP- 4°7 _ 4 2 9- — London 
Quarterly Review, Vol. XL. 1873, pp. 99-110. — Southern 
Review, by Mrs. S. B. Herrick, Vol. XIII. 1873, PP- 2 °5~ 
235. — Nation, by A. V. Dicey, Vol. XVI. 1873, pp. 60-62, 
76, 77. — North American Review, by T. S. Perry, Vol. 
CXVI. 1873, pp. 432-440. — Canadian Monthly, Vol. III. 
1873, pp. 549-552. — Old and New, by H. G. Spaulding, 
Vol. VII. 1873, pp. 352-356. — Revue des Deux Mondes, by 



346 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Th. Bentzon, Vol. CIII. 1873, pp. 667-690. — Die Gegenwart, 
by F. Spielhagen, Nos. 10-12, 1874. 
Eliot, George, Middle-march. Middlemarch and Daniel De- 
ronda. Contemporary Review, by E. Dowden, Vol. XXIX. 

1877, pp. 348-369. 

Middlemarch and Fletirange, Comparison between. 

Catholic World, by J. McCarthy, Vol. XVII. 1873, PP- 
775-792- 

Mill on the Floss. Westminster Review, Vol. XVIII. 

N. S. i860, pp. 24-33. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, 
Vol. LXXXVII. i860, pp. 611-623. — Macmillan's Maga- 
zine, Vol. III. 1861, pp. 441-448. — Dublin University 
Magazine, Vol. LVII. 1861, pp. 192-200. 

Moral Influence of. Contemporary Review, Vol. XXXIX. 

1881, pp. 173-185 ; same article, Littell's Living Age, Vol. 
CXLVIII. pp. 561-571. 

Morality of. Christian World, February 12, 1885. 

and Thackeray. Atlantic Monthly, by Maria L. 

Henry, Vol. LI. 1883, pp. 243-248. 

as a Moral Teacher. Westminster Review, Vol. LXI. 

N.S. 1882, pp. 65-81. 

Negri on. Blackwood's, Vol. CL. p. 867. 

and her Neighborhood. By G. Morley, Gentleman's 

Magazine, N.S. Vol. XLV. p. 583. — Littell's Living Age, 
Vol. CLXXXVIII. p. 42. 

Novels. Quarterly Review, Vol. CVIII. i860, pp. 469-499. 

— National Review, Vol. XI. 1S60, pp. 191-219. — Christian 
Examiner, by I. M. Luyster, Vol. LXX. 1861, pp. 227-251. — 
Home and Foreign Review, Vol. III. 1863, pp. 522-549. — 
North British Review by H. H. Lancaster, Vol. XLV. 1866, 
pp. 197-228 ; afterwards reprinted in " Essays and Reviews," 
1876. — Macmillan's Magazine, by John Morley, Vol. XIV. 
1866, pp. 272-279; same article, Eclectic Magazine, Vol. IV. 
N. S. pp. 488-495. — Atlantic Monthly, by H. James, Jr., 
Vol. XVIII. 1866, pp. 479-492. — Scribner's Monthly, by 
W. C. Wilkinson, Vol. VIII. 1874, pp. 685-703. 

and the Novel. Critic, by E. Eggleston, Vol. I. 1881, p. 9. 

as a Novelist. Westminster Review, Vol. LIV. N. S. 

1878, pp. 105-135. 

Personality of. By H. M. Benton, Southern Monthly, 

Vol. II. p. 131. 
Place of, in Literature. By F. Harrison, Forum, Vol. 

XX. p. 66. 
Poems. North American Review, by H. James, Jr., Vol. 

CXIX. 1874, pp. 484-489. 
— — as a Poet. Contemporary Review, by M. Browne, Vol. 

VIII. 1 868, pp. 387-396. 
and Poetry. Argosy, by Matthew Browne, Vol. XLVL 

1882, pp. 437-443- 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



347 



Eliot, George, Politics of. Gentleman's Magazine, by F. Dolman, 
Vol. CCLIX. 1885, pp. 294-300 ; same article, Eclectic Maga- 
zine, Vol. XLII. N. S. pp. 675-679. 

Portrait of. Century Magazine, Vol. XXIII. 1881, pp. 

47, 48. 

at Thirty. Critic, Vol. XXVII. pp. 46, 64. 

Private Life of. North American Review, by E. P. 

Whipple, Vol. CXLI. 1885, p. 320, etc. ; afterwards re- 
printed in Recollections of Eminent Men, 1887. 

Theory of Realism. By L. T. Damon, Harvard Monthly, 

Vol. XV. p. 14. 

Opinions about Religion. Month, Vol. LIU. 1885, pp. 

473-482. 
>— Religion of. Dublin Review, by William Barry, Vol. VI. 

Third Series, 1881, pp. 433-464. — Christian World, January 

29, 1885. 

Views of Religion of. Ethical Record, by W. L. Salter, 

Vol. II. p. 121. 

Religious Views of Nation, by R. Ogden, Vol. XLV. 

p. 68. — By E. C. Towne, Nation, Vol. XLV. p. 92. 
Reminiscences of. Graffic, January 8, 1S81. — Harper's 

Monthly, by F. Harrison, Vol. CIII. p. 577. 
Revisited. Contemporary Review, by G. W. E. Russell, 

Vol. LXXIX. p. 357. 

Literary Reputation of. Academy, Vol. LII. pp. 551, 573. 

Romola. Westminster Review, Vol. XXIV. N. S. 1863, 

pp. 344-351. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 

CXVI. 1874, pp. 72-91. — Christian Remembrancer, Vol. 

LII. N. S. 1866, pp. 468-479. — Revue des Deux Mondes, 

by E. D. Forgues, Vol. XLVIII. 1863, pp. 939-967. 

" Romola : a Study," Canadian Monthly, by S. R. Tarr, 

Vol. X. p. 295. 
Rustic of, and Tho?nas Hardy. Merry England, by C. 

Kegan Paul, Vol. I. 1883, pp. 40-51. 
and George Sand. Saturday Review, Vol. XLII. 1876, pp. 

561-562 ; repr. Eclectic Magazine, Vol. XXV. N. S. 1877, 

pp. 111-114. — Nineteenth Century, by Mary E. Ponsonby, 

Vol. L. p. 607. 
Scenes of Clerical Life. Saturday Review, Vol. V. 1858, 

pp. 566, 567. 
and Shakespeare. Blackwood's Magazine, Vol. CXXXIII. 

1883, pp. 524-538 ; repr. Eclectic Magazine, Vol. XXXVII. 

N. S. 1883, pp. 743-754- 
Silas Marner. Revue des Deux Mondes, by Cucheval- 

Clarigny, torn. XXXV. 1861, pp. 188-210. 
and Holmes's Elsie Venner. Macmillan's Maga- 
zine, Vol. IV. 1861, pp. 305-309. 
Outline Study of Silas Marner. Education, by M. 

E. Kingsley, Vol. XXIV. p. 301. 



348 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



Eliot, George, Sonnet on. Temple Bar, Vol. LXVII. 1883, 
p. 123, and also in the Eclectic Magazine, Vol. XXX VIII. 
N. S. p. 80. 

Spanish Gypsy. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CXXVIII. 

1868, pp. 523-538. — Westminster Review, Vol. XXXIV. 
N. S. 1868, pp. 183-192. — London Quarterly Review, Vol. 
XXXI. 1868, pp. 160-188. — Blackwood's Edinburgh Maga- 
zine, Vol. CIII. 1868, pp. 760-771. — British Quarterly 
Review, Vol. XLVIII. 1868, pp. 503-534. — Fraser's Maga- 
zine, by J. Skelton, Vol. LXXVIII. 1868, pp. 46S-479. — 
Macmillan's Magazine, by John Morley, Vol. XVIII. 1868, 
pp. 281-287 ; same article, Eclectic Magazine, Vol. VIII. 
N. S. pp. 1276-12S2. — St. James's Magazine, Vol.1. N. S. 
1868, pp. 478-486. — St. Paul's, Vol. II. 1868, pp. 583-592.— 
North American Review, by Henry James, Jr., Vol. CVII. 
1868, pp. 620-635. — Nation, Vol. VII. 1868, pp. 12-14. — 
Revue des Deux Mondes, by Louis Etienne, torn. XC. 1870, 
pp. 429-446. 

Suggestions for Study of. Poet-Lore, Vol. XIII. p. 281. 

- as a Representative of her Times. New Englander, by I. 
M. Street, Vol. LIII. p. 143. 

Theophrastus Such. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CL. 1879, 

pp. 557-586. — Fortnightly Review, by Grant Allen, Vol. 
XXVI. N. S. 1879, pp. 145-149. — Westminster Review, 
Vol. LVI. N. S. 1879, PP- 185-196. — Fraser's Magazine, 
Vol. XX. N. S. 1879, pp. 103-124. — Canadian Monthly, 
Vol. III. 1879, PP- 333~335- — British Quarterly Review, Vol. 
LXX. 1879, PP- 240-242. — North American Review, Vol. 
CXXIX. 1879, pp. 510-513. 

Tito Melema. A study, by J. H. Gulliver. New World, 

Vol. IV. p. 687. 

Village Life according to. Fraser's Magazine, by T. E. 

Kebbel, Vol, XXIII. N. S. 1881, pp. 263-276; same article, 
Littell's Living Age, Vol. CXLVIII. pp. 608-617. 

A Week with. Temple Bar, Vol. LXXIII. 1885, pp. 226- 

232 ; same article, Critic (New York), March 7, 1885, pp. 
116, 117, and Littell's Living Age, Vol. CLXIV. pp. 743-746. 

Last Words from. Harper's Monthly, by E. S. Phelps, 

Vol. LXIV. 1882, pp. 568-571. 

Work of. Le Correspondant, by Pierre du Quesnoy, 

torn. CXIII. 1878, pp. 438-470, 660-682, 826-847. 

Works of. British Quarterly Review, Vol. XLV. 1867, 

pp. 141-178. — Revue des Deux Mondes, by Arvede Barine, 
torn. LXX. 1885, pp. 100-130. — Revue des Deux Mondes, 
by Emile Montegut, torn. LVI. 1883, pp. 305-346. 



INDEX 



INDEX 



'Adam Bede,' xiv, xv, 12, 13, 
27, 28, 71, 84, 85, 94, 198, 219; 
chapter on, 140-162; life and 
character depicted in, 141, 142; 
realism of, 143 ; characters in, 
143, 144 ; Dinah Morris, 143 ; 
Seth Bede, 143 ; Donnithorne 
Arms, 144; germ of, 150; con- 
troversy concerning, 153; Mrs. 
Poyser and Bartle Massy, 155; 
localities in, 155, 156; as a work 
of art, 157; Dinah Morris, 157; 
Hetty Sorrel, 158. 

Adler, Dr. Hermann, 268. 

Appendix, 293-348. (See also in 
the index under George Eliot.) 

Arbury Hall, 13. 

' Armgart,' 229, 230. 

Art, views of George Eliot on, 91. 

Austen, Jane, accuracy of detail 
in writings of, 6. 

Balzac, xxv, 87. 

Barton, Amos, 7. 

Bede, Seth, 143. 

Beesly, Prof., 273, 282. 

Belloc, Madame, 305. 

Bibliography of George Eliot, 331- 
348; George Eliot's works, 
331, 332; reviews and minor 
articles, 332, 333 , compilation 
from works, 333 ; note on George 
Eliot biography and criticism, 
333-335; biography and criti- 
cism, 335-340; magazine arti- 
cles, 340-348. 

Blackwood, John, manuscript of 
'Amos Barton' sent to, 126; 
writes appreciatively to George 
Eliot, 127. 

Blind, Mathilde, prefatory note, 
xli; biographical details con- 
cerning, v ; value of ' Life of 
George Eliot ' by, xxxiii. 



Bodichon, Madame, 273, 304. 

Brabant, Dr., 53, 60. 

Brabant, Miss, 53, 58. 

Brays, the, 33, 34, 35, 36, 50, 51, 

55, 66, 67, 73, 78, 296, 300. 
Bronte, Charlotte, 108. 
Brontes, the, power of the writings 

of, 6. 
Brookes, 241. 
Brown, Oliver M., 194. 
Browning, Mrs., 10. 
Browning, Oscar, vii. 
Browning, Robert, 273, 277. 
Brunetiere, xxiii. 
Bulstrode, 241. 
Burney, Fanny, novels of, 6. 
Burton, Mr., 273. 
Byron, 68. 

Cadwallader, Mrs., 245. 
Carlyle, Jane, 316. 
Carlyle, Thomas, 11, 79, 203, 230. 
Casaubon, 62, 241, 243, 244, 245. 
Cass, Godfrey, 8, 194. 
Castletown, Lady, 273. 
Chapman, Dr. John, 59, 63, 76, 77, 

78. 
Chattams, 241. 
Cheverel Manor, xiv, 13. 
Chronology, George Eliot, xxxv- 

xl. 
Clifford, W. K., 113, 273. 
Cohen, Ezra Mordecai (see Mor- 

decai). 
Coleridge, 95. 
Colonna, Vittoria, 207. 
Combe, George, J2i 7%> I0 3- 
Comte, 10, 51, in, 112, 281. 
Congreve, Dr. and Mrs., 273, 305, 

306. 
Conway, Moncure, 273. 
Coton, 12, 124. 
' Country, Scenes from the George 

Eliot,' xx. 



352 



INDEX. 



'County of George Eliot,' xx. 
Cross's ' Life,' 293, 295. 

Dacier, Madame, position in 

literature, 5. 
D' Albert, M., 69, 71, 302. 
1 Daniel Deronda,' xvii, xix, 36, 
91, 238; chapter on, 254-270; 
appearance of, 254; affinity 
with 'Spanish Gypsy,' 254; 
George Eliot and the Jews, 254; 
admiration for the Florentines, 
254; motif of, 255; Mordecai, 
255, 256, 261, 266, 267, 268; 
quotation from, 256; reorgani- 
zation of the Jews, 256, 257; 
Mirah Lapidoth, 257; Princess 
Halm-Eberstein, 257; diffusion 
of races, 258, 259; Grandcourt, 
Gascoigne, Rex, Mrs. Davilow, 
Sir Hugh Mallinger, Gwendolen, 
Mirah, 261; duality of Daniel 
Deronda, 261; character con- 
trast in, 261 ; character of Gwen- 
dolen, 262, -263; Grandcourt, 
263 ; gaming table at Leubronn, 
264 ; relations of Deronda and 
Gwendolen, 265 ; absence of 
humor in, 266 ; Hans Meyrick, 
267 ; irony and sarcasm in, 267 ; 
Jewish appreciation of, 268 ; 
public reception of, 271. 

Darwin, 10. 

Davilow, Mrs., 261. 

Dawson, George, 74, 75. 

Deane, Lucy, 19. 

' Debasing the Moral Currency,' 
284. 

Derbyshire Hills, 297. 

Dialect, xxvii. 

Dickens, 128, 140, 141, 142, 316. 

Dinah Morris, 143, 157, 219, 220. 

Dodsons, the, 175. 

Donnithorne, Arthur, 144. 

Dorothea, 167, 241, 242, 243, 245, 
261. 

Dresden, 92. 

Du Maurier, 273. 

Eliot, George, her work, v- 
xxxiii ; range of literature con- 
cerning, vi ; Cross's Life of, vi, 
viii, ix ; critical and biographical 



literature concerning, vi ; periods 
of literature concerning, vi; 
Mathilde Blind's Life of, vi, 
vii; George Eliot on biographies, 
viii ; name ' George Eliot ' as- 
sumed, xi, 130; periods in lit- 
erary life of, xi; intellectual 
progress, x>, xii ; debut in im- 
aginative literature, xiii; 'Scenes 
of Clerical Life,' xiii; life at 
Griff, xiii ; use of Newdigate 
material, xiv; atmosphere of 
Cheverel Manor, xiv ; ' Adam 
Bede,' xiv ; ' Mill on the Floss,' 
xv, xvi, xvii; scenes of her 
stories, xv, xvi; 'Silas Marner,' 
xvii; 'Felix Holt,' xvii; ' Ro- 
mola,' xvi, xviii; 'Daniel De- 
ronda,' xviii, xix; ' Middle- 
march,' xviii, xix; methods of 
.work, xviii, xix ; position in lit- 
erature, xviii ; ' Impressions of 
Theophrastus Such,' xix; as a 
poet, xix ; ' Spanish Gypsy,' 
xx ; poetry criticised by Henry 
James, xx; county of, xx; 
country of, xx ; study of Eng- 
lish life in works of, xxi ; sym- 
pathetic character of writings of, 
xxi ; criticisms of writings of, 
xxii, xxiii, xxiv; comment on 
Balzac's 'Pere Goriot,' xxv ; as 
a teacher, xxv ; Lewes's influ- 
ence on, xxvi, xxviii ; use of dia- 
lect, xxvii ; scope and nature of 
writings of, xxviii ; popularity 
of writings, xxix, xxx; com- 
plexity of writings of, xxx ; po- 
sition in literary world, xxxi, 
xxxii ; writings as text-books, 
xxxii ; value of Mathilde Blind's 
Life of, xxxiii ; chief events in 
life of, xxxv-xl ; prefatory note 
on, by Mathilde Blind, xli-xliii. 

Chapter I. Introductory 
chapter, 1-11 ; character of writ- 
ings, 1-7 ; moral influence of 
writings of, 10; teachings of 
writings, 11. 

Chapter II. Childhood of, 
12-28 ; birth of, 12; early home 
of, 12, 16, 17; mother of, 14, 15; 
brother and sister of, 16 ; early 



INDEX. 



353 



impressions of English rural 
life, 1 8 ; personality in childhood, 
19; sports of the childhood of, 
19, 20; gypsies, 21; early school 
days of, 21 ; at school at Coton, 
21 ; at school at Nuneaton, 21 ; 
as Sunday-school teacher, 22 ; 
at school at Coventry, 22, 23 ; 
verse writing, 24; student of 
French and German, 24; early 
church connections, 25 ; girlish 
vanities of, 26; her mother's 
death, 26 ; housekeeper at Griff, 
27. 

Chapter III. Youthful stud- 
ies and friendships, 29-57; re- 
moval to Foleshill, 28; life at 
Foleshill, 30; housekeeper for 
her father, 31; studies of, 31; 
student of Greek, Latin, French, 
German, Italian, Hebrew, 31 ; 
musical studies, 31, 32; early 
love story of, 32, 33 ; friendship 
with Brays, 33 ; friendship with 
Hennells, 34, 35, 36; letter to 
Mrs. Bray, 37, 38, 39, 40 ; intel- 
lectual surroundings of, 42; 
piety of, 43 ; visit from her aunt, 
Elizabeth Evans, 44 ; beginning 
of religious doubts, 44; religious 
influence of Brays on, 44, 45 ; 
personal influence of, 47 ; as an 
infidel, 47 ; phrenology of, 48 ; 
sententious remarks of, 48 ; re- 
ligious differences with her 
father, 49; contemplates leaving 
home, 49; personality of, 50, 55, 
56; philosophical studies, 51; 
travels to Tenby with Brabants, 
53; portrait of, 54, 70; head of, 
55; emotional nature of, 56, 
philosophical spirit of, 57. 

Chapter IV. Translation of 
Strauss and Feuerbach — Tour 
on the Continent, 58-77; as a 
translator, 5S ; translator of 
Strauss's ' Leben Jesu,' 58, 59; 
visit at Dr. Brabant's, 60; 
humor, 60, 61 ; translation of 
Feuerbach' s Wesen des Chris- 
icnthum' s, 62; translation of 
Spinoza's De Deo, 64; her 
father's illness, 64, 65; on 



novel reading, 64, 65 ; reading 
aloud to father, 64, 65 ; father's 
death, 65 ; first continental jour- 
ney, 66 ; timidity of, 66, 67 ; 
life in Geneva, 68-72 ; life with 
the D' Alberts, 69; social life at 
Geneva, 70; return to England, 
71, 72; life at Rosehill, 72, yy, 
acquaintances at Rosehill, 73, 74 ; 
friendship with George Dawson, 
74, 75 ; assistant editor of West- 
minster Review, 76; residence 
in London, yj. 

Chapter V. The West- 
minster Review, 78-102 ; home 
life with the Chapmans, 78 ; first 
contribution to Westminster Re- 
view, 79 ; views on biographies, 
79, 80 ; estimate of Margaret 
Fuller, 80, 81 ; as an essayist, 
82; on the novel, S3; 'Silly 
Novels by Lady Novelists,' 83 ; 
views on portrayals of religious 
life, 84; idealization of peasants, 
85, 86 ; ideas of novelistic art, 
87 ; influence on writings of 
Lewes, 89, 90 ; review of Hein- 
rich Heine, 90; views on art, 
91; travels with Lewes, 92; 
literary style, 93 ; doubtful au- 
thorship of 'Weimar and its 
Celebrities; ' ' Evangelical Teach- 
ing,' 95; ' Worldliness and Other- 
Worldliness,' 95 ; transition 
stage in changes of religious be- 
lief, 95 ; narrowness of Evan- 
gelical preachers, 96, 97, 98 ; 
analysis of Young's ' Night 
Thoughts,' 98, 99, 100; list of 
contributions to Westminster 
Review, 101 ; editorial work on 
Westminster Review, 101; re- 
moval from Dr. Chapman's 
house to Hyde Park, 101, 102; 
private income, 102. 

Chapter VI. George Henry 
Lewes, 103-120 ; friendship with 
Herbert Spencer, 103; ac- 
quaintance with Lewes begun, 
104; her opinion of Jane Eyre, 
114; article on Mme. de Sable; 
French morals, 115; union with 
Lewes, 115 ; effect on friendships 



354 



INDEX. 



of union with Mr. Lewes, 116; 
defiance of public opinion, 117, 
118; journey to Germany with 
Lewes, 119; devotion to Lewes's 
children, 120. 

Chapter VII. ' Scenes of 
Clerical Life,' 121-139; in Ger- 
many with Lewes, 121; transla- 
tion of Spinoza's 'Ethics,' 121 ; 
discovery of power to write fic- 
tion, 122, 123; influence of Lewes 
on writings of, 124; manuscript 
of ' Amos Barton ' sent to John 
Blackwood, 126; the other 
' Scenes of Clerical Life' written, 
126, 127; appearance of 'Amos 
Barton' in Black-wood's, 127; 
Blackwood writes appreciatively 
to, 127 ; literary reputation 
fairly achieved, 12S; comparison 
with Jane Austen, 130, 131; 
humor in 'Scenes of Clerical 
Life,' 135. 

Chapter VIII. ' Adam 
Bede,' 140-162 ; intellectual 
preparation for authorship, 140 ; 
in Derbyshire, 143 ; visits to 
her aunt, 147, 151, 153; the Lig- 
gins affair, 160, 161 ; disclosure 
of identity of, 162. 

Chapter IX. ' The Mill on 
the Floss,' 163-180; disclosure 
of identity of, 163, 164; Tom 
Tulliver, Maggie Tulliver, 164; 
autobiographical nature of ' Mili 
on the Floss,' 164; identity of 
Maggie Tulliver with, 172, 173. 

Chapter X. ' Silas Mar- 
ner,' 181-195 ; popular repu- 
tation fully established, 181; 
'The Lifted Veil,' 181; com- 
parison of, with Shakespeare, 
188; success in describing village 
life, 188, 189; humor in 'Silas 
Marner,' 191, 192, 193. 

Chapter XI. ' Romola,' 
196-212; 'Romola' a new de- 
parture in writings of, 196 ; in 
Florence, 198; labor expended 
on ' Romola,' 200 ; Lewes a 
screen against criticism, 200, 
201 ; theory of love compared 
with George Sands', 211. 



Chapter XII. Poems, 213- 
231; removal to the Priory, St. 
John's Wood, 213 ; decoration of 
home by Owen Jones, 213 ; Sun- 
day afternoon receptions, 213 ; 
musical interest of, 214; interest 
in painting, 215; visits to Zo- 
ological Gardens, 216 ; evening 
recreations, 217; fondness for 
travel, 217; visit to France 
(1865), 218; visit to Spain(i867), 
21S ; first draught of ' Spanish 
Gypsy,' 218; origin of 'Spanish 
Gypsy,' 219; ideality of 'Span- 
ish Gypsy,' 219; distinctiveness 
of poems of, 223 ; knowledge of 
poetic forms, 226 ; letter to James 
Thomson, 227 ; philosophy of 
life, 228, 229; 'Armgart,' 229, 
230. 

Chapter XIII. 'Felix 
Holt ' and ' Middlemarch,' 232- 
253; character of Dorothea, 242; 
Theresas, 242, 243 ; character 
insight of, 243 ; erroneous criti- 
cisms on 'Middlemarch,' 243; 
attitude toward education of 
women, 246 ; donation to Girton 
College, 246 ; interest in Woman 
Suffrage, 246; sojourn at Shot- 
termill, 247, 248, 249; consci- 
entiousness of, 250 ; indispo- 
sition of, 251; at work on 
'Middlemarch,' 251; calls on 
Tennyson, 252; personality of, 
252; home at Witley, 253. 

Chapter XIV. ' Daniel 
Deronda,' 254-270; least suc- 
cessful characters of, 256 ; re- 
organization of the Jews, 256, 
257 ; idea of diffusion of races, 
258, 259: sources of inspiration, 
260; letter to Dante Rossetti, 
264; familiarity with Hebrew 
literature, 269, 270. 

Chapter XV. Last years 
of her life, 271-290; diffidence 
of, 272; conscientiousness of, 
272; serious nature of, 272; 
distinguished friends of, 273; 
personality, 274, 275 ; portraits 
of, 276; felicitous expressions 
of, 277; Rossetti's gifts to, 277, 



INDEX. 



355 



278 ; letter to Rossetti, 278 ; her 
reading, 279; Lewes' s care for, 
280; spiritual philosophy of, 
281 ; influence of Comtism on, 
282, 283 ; ' Impressions of Theo- 
phrastus Such' (1879), 2S3- 
285 ; ' Debasing the Moral Cur- 
rency,' 284 ; bereavement of, 
286; George Henry Lewes 
Studentship founded, 287 ; 
' Theophrastus Such ' prepired 
for press, 287; marriage irith 
John Walter Cross, 287 ; death 
(1880), 289; career, 290. 

Appendix. Homelifeand 
friends, 293-312 ; childhood, 
293 ; young womanhood, 293 ; 
religious asceticism, 293, 294; 
first visit to London, 294 ; music 
her passion, 294; ambition of, 
294 ; letters of, 295 ; playfulness 
of, 296; sober reading, 296; 
housekeeping responsibil.ties 
and troubles, 297; Isaac's mar- 
riage, 297; removal to Foleshill, 
297 ; friendships at Rosehill, 
297 ; intellectual sympathy with 
Sarah Hennell, 298; letter to 
Sarah Hennell, 299; translation 
of ' Tractatus Theologico-Politi- 
cus, ' 299 ; letters written at Ge- 
neva, 299; life at, 300; as a 
confidante, 301; letter to the 
Brays describing Geneva life, 
301 ; beginning of London life, 
302 ; acquaintanceship with Her- 
bert Spencer, 303; Spencer's 
remarks on personality of, 303, 
304 ; meeting with Mr. Lewes, 
304; union with Mr. Lewes, 
304 ; uncommunicativeness, 305 ; 
correspondence with Mrs. 
Houghton, Mrs. Congreve, 
Madame Belloc, 305 ; generos- 
ity to relatives, 305, 306; silence 
of Chrissey and Isaac towards, 
306; friendship for Mrs. Con- 
greve and Madame Bodichon, 
306 ; lack of personalities in her 
Journal, 307; early interest in 
music, 306; sensitiveness to ex- 
ternal influences of weather, 307- 
309; affection for Lewes' s sons, 



310; simplicity of home life, 3 1 o ; 
the Lewes boys at school, 311 ; 
business careers of the Lewes 
boys, 312; Mr. James on home 
life of, 312. At work, 313-329; 
early studies and reading, 313; 
summary of intellectual attain- 
ments, 313, 314; preparation of 
ecclesiastical history chart, 314 ; 
increased breadth of knowledge, 
314 ; work on Westminster Re- 
view, 314; evidence of genius in 
writing, 31 j ; first attempt at 
fiction writing, 315, 316, 317; 
writing ' Scenes of Clerical Life,' 
317; Herbert Spencer's recogni- 
tion of ability for fiction writing, 
318 ; opinions of authors on the 
' Scenes,' 318; unheedfulness of 
criticism, 319, 320 ; stimulus of 
Lewes, 331 ; reluctance to dis- 
cuss her writings, 323, 324 ; time 
spent on writings, 324, 325 ; dil- 
igence in work, 325 ; influence 
of Lewes on writings, 326; at- 
tention to details in writings, 
327 ; use of real material in 
writing, 327 ; impersonal works, 
327 ; nervous strain, 328 ; poor 
verbal memory, 328 ; humanity 
of, 329 ; purpose in writings, 329. 

Emerson, 74. 

Eppie, 194, 238. 

Esther (Felix Holt), 25, 237, 238. 

Evans, Christiana, 16, 19, 303. 

Evans, Elizabeth, 44, 143, 144, 
145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 154. 

Evans, Isaac, 16, 19, 163, 297. 

Evans, Mary Ann (see George 
Eliot). 

Evans, Robert, 12, 13, 14, 28, 64, 

6 5, 155, 2 45> 3°5- 
Evans, Samuel, 144. 
Eyre, Jane, 114. 

Featherstone, 241. 

Fedalma, 221, 222, 238, 241,242. 

' Felix Holt,' xvii ; chapter on, 232- 
240; published in 1866, 232; 
political nature of, 232 ; ' Ad- 
dress to Working Men ' by, 232 ; 
teachings of, 233, 234, 235 ; per- 
sonality of Felix Holt, 235 ; two 



356 



INDEX. 



sensational features of, 235 : in- 
tricacies of, 236, 240 ; Mrs. 
Transome, 237, 238 ; Harold 
Transome, 237; Rufus Lyon, 
237 ; Esther, 237, 238 ; Mrs. 
Holt, 237; Job Tudge, 237; 
original features of, 239. 

Feuerbach, Ludwig, 62. 

Flaubert, 87. 

Foleshill, 28, 30. 

Forbes, Edward, 78. 

Forman, Mr. and Mrs. Buxton, 

273- 
France, visit to, 218. 
Franklin, Rebecca, 22. 
Franklin, the Misses, 22. 
Froude, 73, 316. 
Fuller, Margaret, 79, 80, 81. 

Garth, Caleb, 8, 13, 241, 245. 

Gascoigne, 261. 

Geneva, 68-72, 299, 300. 

Gibbon, 68. 

Gilchrist, Mrs., 247-250. 

' Mr. Gilfil's Love Story,' 13, 127 

(see ' Scenes of Clerical Life'); 

quotation from, 131 ; outline of, 

i3 2 » J 33- 
Girton College, 246. 
Gleggs, the, 176. 
Goethe, no, 121, 123, 203, 272. 
Grandcourt, 91, 261, 263. 
Griff House, 17, xiii. 
Gwendolen, 168, 261, 262, 265. 
Gwyther, Emma, 125. 

Hackit, Mr., 13. 
Hackit, Mrs., 14, 15, 126. 
Halm-Eberstein, Princess, 257. 
Harrison, Frederic, 273. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 266. 
Heine, Heinrich, 90, 95, 192, 260, 

272. 
Helps, Arthur, 274. 
Hennell, Charles C, 34, 58. 
Hennell, Sarah, 35, 40, 52, 296, 

297, 300. 
Herrick, Mrs.,xxii. 
Hetty, 7, 158, 159, 209. 
Heyse, Paul, 91. 
Hogarth, 240. 
Holt, Mrs., 237. 
Houghton, Lord, 251, 273. 



Houghton, Its., 305. 
Howard, George, 273. 
Hueffer, Dr. 273. 
Hugo, Victor, 203, 282. 
Huxley, 273. 

Jakin, Bob, 180. 

James, Henry, vii, viii, ix, xx, xxii, 

xxjii, xxvi. 
' Janfct's Repentance,' 127 (see 

' Sfcenes of Clerical Life'). 
Jenk)ns, Miss Bradley, 23. 
Jonel, Burne, 273. 
Jones, Owen, 213. 

Kinosley, Rose, xx. 

Ladblaw, 241, 244, 245. 

Lafit.e, the Positivist, 283. 

Lammeter, Nancy, 28. 

' Legend of Jubal,' 223. 

Leland, C. G., 273. 

Lemon, Mrs., school of, 31. 

Le Plongeau, 68. 

Lessjng, 282. 

Lewes, George Henry, contributor 
to Westminster Review, 78 ; real- 
ism in art : recent German fiction, 
89 ; influence of George Eliot 
on, 89 ; essay on art, 92 ; ideality 
of child Jesus, 92, 93 ; chapter 
on George Henry Lewes, 103- 
120 ; acquaintanceship with 
George Eliot begun, 104; birth, 
104; education, 105; club life, 
105 ; acquaintanceship with Jews, 
105 ; as Daniel Deronda, 106 ; 
study of philosophy, 106, 107; 
biographical history, 107; stu- 
dent in Germany, 10.8 ; London 
journalist, 108; versatility of, 108, 
no, 1 12; as a novelist, 108; corre- 
spondence with Charlotte Bronte, 
108; ' Ranthorpe,' 108, 109; 
' Rose, Blanche, and Violet,' 108; 
assistant editor of the Classical 
Museum, 108 ; contributor to 
Morning Chronicle, Athentzum, 
the Edinburgh, Foreign Quar- 
terly, British Quarterly, Black- 
wood, Eraser, Westminster 
Review, 108 ; Spanish drama, 
109; 'Life of Maximilian Robe- 



INDEX. 



357 



spierre,' 109 ; 'The Noble Heart,' 
109; as an actor, 109; 'Life of 
Goethe,' no, 121; exponent of 
Positivism, in; personality, 113; 
early married life, 113; union 
with George Eliot, 115; journey 
to Germany with George Eliot, 
119; George Eliot's devotion to 
the children of, 1 20 ; in Germany 
with George Eliot, 121 ; dis- 
covery of George Eliot's power 
to write fiction, 122, 123; influ- 
ence on George Eliot's writings, 
xxvi, xxviii, 124 ; varied attain- 
ments of, 140 ; club of philoso- 
phers described by, 268, 269; 
first recognition of George 
Eliot's genius, 313 ; influence on 
writings of George Eliot, 324; 
on serial publication of Romola, 
197; editor of Fortnightly Re- 
view, 213; interest in young 
aspirants, 274; wit of, 274; ill- 
ness and death of, 285; Lewes 
Studentship founded by George 
Eliot, 287. 

Lewis, Miss, 21, 295, 296. 

'The Lifted Veil,' 1S1: Bulwer 
Lytton's admiration of, 181. 

Liggins, 160, 161. 

Lillo, 212. 

'Looking Backward,' 285. 

Luke the Miller, 180. 

Lydgate, 167, 241, 245. 

Lyon, Esther, 237 (see also 
Esther). 

Lyon, Rufus, 237. 

Lytton, Bulwer, 181, 326. 

McCarthy, Justin, 273. 

Maggie (see Tulliver). 

Mallinger, Sir Hugh, 261. 

Martin, Sir Theodore, 273. 

Martineau, Harriet, 78, 103. 

Martineau, James, 78. 

Massy, Bartle, T98. 

Mazzini, 10, 198, 282. 

Melema, 209. 

Mendelssohns, the, 260. 

Meyerbeer, 260. 

Meyrick, Hans, 267. 

Meyrick household, 36. 

' Middlemarch,' xviii, xix, 31, 68; 



chapter on, 240-253 ; scope of, 
240 ; Brookes, Chattams, Vincy, 
Garth, Waules, Featherstones, 
Dorothea, Lydgate, Casaubon, 
Rosamond Vincy, Ladislaw, 
Bulstrode, Caleb and Mary 
Garth, Romola, Fedalma, 241 ; 
Theresa, 242, 243; character 
insight of George Eliot, 243 ; 
erroneous criticism on, 243, 244 ; 
Lewes represented by Ladislaw, 
244 ; Farebrother, 245 ; Mrs. 
Cadwallader, 245 ; Mrs. Poyser, 
1245; Robert Evans, 245; at 
work on, 251. 

Mill, John Stuart, 282. 

' Mill on the Floss,' xv, xvi, xvii, 
xxv, 20, 93; chapter on, 163- 
180; autobiographical nature of, 
164; reproduction of Griff 
House attic in, 164; Red Deeps, 
165 ; identification of localities 
in, 165, 166; poetical aspect of, 
166; motif in, 167; Philip 
Wakem, 170, 180; attempt to 
identify Maggie with other hero- 
ines, 171; identity of Maggie 
with George Eliot, 1 72, 1 73 ; 
Maggie and Tom Tulliver con- 
trasted, 174; the Dodsons, 175, 
180; the Gleggs, 176-178; 
the Pullets, 176; Mrs. Poyser, 
176; Dolly Winthrop, 176 ; Mrs. 
Moss, 180; Bob Jakin, 180; 
Mumps, the dog, 180 ; Luke 
the Miller, 180 ; distinguishing 
features of, 180. 

Millais, John Everett, 273. 

Milly, wife of Amos Barton, 
Emma Gwyther, 125. 

Mirah (Lapidoth), 257, 261. 

Moore, Mrs. Hannah, 296. 

Mordecai, 219, 220, 255, 256, 261, 
266, 267, 268, 269. 

Moss, Mrs., 180. 

Mumps, the dog, 180. 

Myers, F., 273. 

Newdigate, 13, 28, xiv. 

OXENFORD, John, 78. 

Parkes, Joseph, 52, 59. 
Parkinson, S., xx. 



358 



INDEX. 



Pattison, Mark, 273. 

Pears, Mrs., 295. 

Phelps, Miss, letter to, 104. 

Poe, Edgar Allan, admiration of, 

for ' Ranthorpe,' 109. 
Poems of George Eliot, 213-231. 
Poyser, Mrs., 8, 15, 155, 176, 198, 

245. 
Prague, 92. 
Priory, the, 213, 272, 273, 274, 

277. 
Pullets, the, 176. 

Rahel, 260. 

Ralston, Mr., 273. 

' Ranthorpe,' 108, 109. 

' Realism in Art : Recent German 
Fiction,' 89. 

Rex, 261. 

Roland, Madame, position of, in 
literature, 5. 

Romola, xvii, xviii, xxiv, xxv, 60, 
68, 241, 242, 246; chapter on, 
196-212 ; a new departure in 
George Eliot's writings, 196 ; 
ethical teaching in, 196; appear- 
ance in Cornhill Magazine, 
1862, 197 ; Lewes on serial pub- 
lication of, 197 ; appreciation of, 
198 ; visit to Florence for ma- 
terial for, 198 ; criticism of, 198, 
199 ; majesty of ' Romola,' 199 ; 
labor expended on, 200; true 
point of view for, 202 ; Romola 
and Tito, 202 ; learning dis- 
played in, 203 ; spiritual growth 
of Romola, 205, 206; Tito, 206; 
Vittoria Colonna, 207 ; Romola's 
martyrdom, 207 ; Tito, 207, 208, 
210; Tito's character, 208; 
Melema, 209; married life of 
Romola and Tito, 210; Ro- 
mola's address to Lillo, 212. 

* Rose, Blanche, and Violet,' 108. 

Rosehill, 103, 295. 

Rossetti, D. G., 199, 264, 277. 

Rousseau, 10, 68. 

Sabl£, Madame de, 114. 

' Sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos 
Barton,' 124, 128 (see also 
' Scenes of Clerical Life'). 

Salzburg, 92. 



Sand, George, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, 67, 
195, 211. 

'Sartor Resartus,' 11. 

Savonarola, 198, 204, 205, 207, 219, 
220. 

'Scenes of Clerical Life,' xiii, 32, 
84, 85, 94, 197 ; chapter on, 121- 
139; origin, 122; Amos Barton, 
123, 124 ; church in which Amos 
Barton preached, 125 ; the origi- 
nal of Amos Barton's wife, 126; 
Amos Barton sent to John Black- 
wood, 126; appearance of 'Amos 
Barton ' in Blackwood's Mag- 
azine, 127 ; ' Mr. Gilfil's Love 
Story ' and ' Janet's Repent- 
ance' written, 127; Blackwood's 
appreciation of ' Amos Barton,' 
127 ; Thackeray's appreciation of 
'Amos Barton,' 127; Dickens's 
appreciation of ' Scenes of Cleri- 
cal Life,' 128 ; public curiosity as 
to authorship of, 129; name 
' George Eliot ' assumed, 130 ; 
stories compared, 132 ; outline of 
' Mr. Gilfil's Love Story,' 132, 
133; humor in, 135 ; precepts of, 
136, 137 ; Mr. Spratt's example, 
138 ; originals of portraits in, 160 ; 
the Liggins episode, 160, 161. 

Schiller, 123. 

Sevigne, Madame de, 5. 

Shakespeare, 283. 

Sheepshanks, Rev. T., 31. 

Shelley, 68, 282. 

Shottermill, 247. 

Simms, Mr., 31. 

' Silas Marner,' xvii, xxiii, xxxii, 
93; chapter on, 181-195; re- 
semblance to 'Jermola the Pot- 
ter,' 184, 187, 188; story of 
'Jermola the Potter,' 184-187; 
scene at the ' Rainbow,' 189- 
190; Dolly Winthrop, 190; 
humor in, 191; Eppie's child- 
hood, 194, 261. 

South Farm, Arbury, 12. 

Spain, visit to, 218. 

'Spanish Gypsy,' xx, 218, 219, 
220, 221-225. 

Spencer, Herbert, 51, •jZ, 103, 273, 

3°3> 3°4- 
Spinoza, 64, 121, 260, 299. 



INDEX. 



359 



Spratt, Mr., 138. 

Stael, Madame de, 5, 68. 

Stephen, Leslie, vii, xxiv. 

Sterling, Life of, 79. 

Strauss's ' Leben Jesu,' 52, 58, 59. 

Sully, Mr., 273. 

Tennyson, 252, 273, 277. 

Thackeray, 128, 140, 274. 

•The Lifted Veil,' 181. 

• Theophrastus Such,' xix, 94, 275, 

283, 284, 285, 287. 
Thomson, James, 227. 
Tina's grief, 131, 132. 
Tito, 168, 202, 206, 207, 208, 210. 
Tourguenief, M., 273. 
Transome, Harold, 237. 
Transome, Mrs., 237, 238. 
Trollope, 274. 
Tudge, Job, 237. 
Tulliver, Maggie, 8, 19, 24, 25, 43, 

164, 168-175, 198, 261, 295. 
Tulliver, Mr., 13. 
Tulliver, Tom, 8, 19, 164, 168-175, 

295. 



Velasquez, 87. 

Vienna, 92. 

Vincy, Rosamond, 31, 241. 

Wakem, Philip, 70, 93, 170, 180. 

Walpole, Sir Robert, 100. 

Walpurga, 230. 

Warwickshire, 12. 

Weimar, 119. 

Westminster Review, 45, 76, 78- 
102, 101. 

Whitman, Walt, 279. 

Witley, 253. 

Women, English, 2. 

Women, French, 1, 3. 

Women, influence of race peculiari- 
ties in writings of, 3, 4. 

' Worldliness and Other- Worldli- 
ness,' 45, 46, 95. 

Young's ' Night Thoughts,' 98. 

Zarca, 219, 220, 222, 223. 
Zoological Gardens, 216. 



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